


Kidnap the Prince, a Great Idea

by SiSiren



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, The Gaang Learns How Zuko Got The Scar (Avatar), The Gaang adopts Zuko, Zuko Joins The Gaang Early (Avatar), based off a tumblr post, no beta we die like lu ten, no edit we die like Lu Ten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25950523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiSiren/pseuds/SiSiren
Summary: During the Winter Solstice, Zhao orders the prisoners and traitors to be locked in a room. Zuko, Katara, and Sokka share some words and Sokka and Katara decide to kidnap Zuko.Zuko's...not too happy about that.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 172
Kudos: 1095
Collections: A:tla, WIPs I’ll Wait Patiently For





	1. Plans never work out

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this: https://blessedshortcake.tumblr.com/post/625284582581944320/early-season-1-when-aang-is-talking-to-roku  
> Written in two hours, I have not checked grammar or whatnot but, whatever. Yolo, right?  
> I hope you guys enjoy! :3

It was suicide, he knew that. He was banished, the prince uncrowned, sailing into Fire Nation waters to capture a twelve year old that constantly escaped him or was steps ahead. He could almost feel his scar heat up as he forced himself to not think about what would happen if he was caught.

He would be sent back to his father either with or without the Avatar. He would either have regained his honour, or have lost his life. It was such a risk and with his record he would have never gone after them.

But he was nothing if not determined.

He knew what his Uncle said was true--he was foolish, there would be no help for him if he failed, but his Uncle had always said that he could not fail if he did not try. If he took no actions in capturing the Avatar, he would never capture him.

In hindsight, he should have listened to his Uncle; everything always listened better if he listened to his Uncle, even before he was banished. But the Avatar was so close, the first lead they had had recently and the peasant from Senlin Village was all too willing to be parted with information.

Money and threats were great motivators.

They were approaching the Fire Temple on Crescent Island. Something akin to disgust bubbled as he realised the Avatar was heading towards a temple dedicated to him. How conceited was he to go see himself?

“Really, Prince Zuko, couldn’t you shoot them down with something more fragrant?”

He ignored his Uncle, even though he agreed. The stench was disastrous, a mix of oil and other flammable liquids--of which he knew not the names of--that permeated the air and sank into their clothing. It reeked, but after almost three years on a ship, he didn’t care for the smell.

He lit the cannonball, and ordered his crew to fire, watching as it arced through the air and missed the Avatar and the flying _thing_ he and his group rode on. How does it even fly? How can a giant animal be so nimble? Should it not move slower?

A gasp from one of his crew members and a low murmur had him quickly scouring the horizon, his eyes narrowing on the ship he immediately recognized.

Zhao.

He was always there, always looming over his shoulder and mocking everything the _“banished prince”_ attempted. Zuko’s crew, the members aboard the Huǒlóng, disliked Zhao for his constant admonishments on every small thing that didn’t line up with his views. Maybe their feelings had rubbed off on him for the previous annoyance had turned into hatred and had only grown with their Agni Kai.

Commander Zhao had formed a blockade, a row of ships and Zuko had to wonder if the forming of the blockade was a special mission for that day. Normally Zhao was patrolling the waters, going from port to port in the Earth Kingdom or shadowing the Huǒlóng. There was a niggling feeling, one of suspicion, of a possible betrayal from one of his crewmates that made their disdain for him known, that he stuffed aside. The Avatar was _right there_ , and he had to keep going no matter what.

He was so close.

His Uncle spoke behind him and Zuko’s hands gripped the railing. He had heard him, heard the argument as high as he could count since they had left Senlin Village and--

He knew he could trust his Uncle but he also didn’t take Zuko’s mission seriously. Uncle never wanted to return to the Fire Nation. Never wanted to return to Royal Caldera City.

He never wanted to return home and that was the only thing Zuko needed.

He needed his father to welcome him back.

The banished prince bowed his head for a moment, whispering an apology under his breath that he wished he was less cowardly to say aloud, and gathered his wits.

This was it. This would be his last chance to capture the Avatar or die trying.

Zuko needn’t say a word, just motion with his hand to keep going, eyes trained on Zhao’s ship as they sped forward. It was rough, between Zhao attempting to hit the Avatar out of the air and hitting the Huǒlóng, and the constant disappointment he could feel his Uncle sending his way. And yet--

They made it through safely, Zuko eying Zhao as they passed and the sinking feeling grew, a suspicion that bubbled and grew, like an overflowing kettle of tea. Zhao was up to something, he _knew_ the Huǒlóng was going to come down this path, he _knew_ Zuko wouldn’t back down.

Dread seeped into his bones but he cast it aside, eyes turning towards the water, towards Crescent Island and searching in the sky once again. He was making a mistake, he knew, but Zuko was nothing but determined.

~`~`~`~`

He didn’t make plans. If he made a plan, it backfired on him or he didn’t account for something large despite knowing every small detail. It was a problem, but his intuition, his ability to act without thinking, got him out of the same trouble he got into.

There had been a time, when he tried to plan out games with Azula, tried to plan against her and Ty Lee and Mai so he could finally be good at something, but was always foiled. Foiled and hurt for his outrageous efforts that put him in equally outrageous places.

There had been a time when he planned to practice his Firebending techniques and was reprimanded for doing so in an unsafe place.

There had been a time where he planned to stay silent during a war meeting and he wasn’t.

That’s why when his Uncle had proposed a plan, for Zuko to go out on his own and the Huǒlóng be a diversion, he protested at first. Plans didn’t work and this one put his crew in danger. But his Uncle had only looked at him before he agreed. He had already invested in this chase into Fire Nation territory this far and, if he were to be without his crew and without his Uncle, so be it.

(He knew it was going to fail, so why did he agree to it?)

He made it to Crescent Island quickly in one of the small vessels they kept in case the Huǒlóng sunk, or for stealth missions. They had never had to use the sleek silver boat, though, never had to flee their ship and never had to do anything that required undercover work, not when they had the power of the Fire Nation on their side.

It was even easier to follow the noise inside the Fire Temple to the sanctuary and hide behind a pillar until he could grab the Avatar. He almost felt light as a smirk came to his face and he shoved his relief to the side. It was far too early for that. There were too many variables left, too many ways for this to go wrong.

“The Avatar's coming with me!” he yelled as he started heading towards the stairs. The Avatar--and was he seriously in a child’s body? This kid couldn’t be more than fourteen! That’s why nobody had found him before! A master of disguise--barely struggled, just enough to look at his friends. “Close the doors! Hurry!” If he did get away, he would make sure the Avatar didn’t get into the sanctuary.

Zuko’s smirk turned into a grin, manic as the feeling of relief and elation lit back up in him, like his Inner Fire, something he was not able to stem. He finally had the Avatar captured, he could present him to his father. He could return home.

In hindsight, positive feelings were never a good thing for the banished prince to have. That, and hope.

The child struggled once they reached the first step, headbutting him in the face before wriggling out of his grasp and--

His breath was knocked out of him as he went down the flight of stairs, tumbling like some kind of Pygmy-Puma kicked down the palace steps. He lay there, dazed for a second, head throbbing in time with his heart that made it hard to think, and infinitely glad he wore his cuirass. He was sure his ribs were at least bruised, and his arms pinged with pain as he made to stand up.

What had he been doing?

The sound of metal sliding together had him bounding up the stairs before he could even get his thoughts together--the Avatar, the sanctuary, no!

The guards had tied the traitorous sage up, they needed to open the doors, and he was over before another sage could come ask him for help. This was his duty, this was _their_ duty. This was--

A throb in his head made him close his eyes as he sent a column of fire to the door, waiting for it to open. _For a firebender to bend well, Prince Zuko, he needs to be in good health._ He wish his Uncle got out of his head, at times, especially when he didn’t need to think but _do_.

The door did nothing except puffed smoke back at them, and he frowned. “Why isn’t it working? It’s sealed shut.”

“It must have been the light. Avatar Roku doesn’t want us inside,” the Great Fire Sage responded. He clenched his fists, staring at the door. This was great, fantastic, really. He didn’t have much time before Zhao figured out his plan, he was on Fire Nation territory, and the being he had been after just locked himself in the sanctuary with a past self.

Fucking fantastic.

Maybe--he turned to the traitorous sage, fire licking at his fists and sparks dancing off his words. Maybe he could take his rage out somehow.

“Why did you help the Avatar?”

“Because it was once the sage’s duty,” he replied, eerily calm. He looked Zuko directly in the eyes, a feat most cannot be attributed to, and seemed to suck the rage out of the banished prince. “It is still our duty.”

Someone started clapping and Zuko stiffened, turning around so quickly that his head swam from the earlier abuse. There was Zhao, members of his fleet behind him, and a spark in his eyes that did not come from firebending. “What a moving and heartfelt performance. I’m certain the Fire Lord will understand, when you explain why you betrayed him.” Despite Zhao’s words aimed at the sage, he continued to stare at Zuko, a smug smirk sitting delicately upon his roughened features as he enjoyed the sight of the banished prince panicking, no doubt.

“And Prince Zuko. It was a noble effort, but your little smokescreen didn’t work.” He was able to control his features long enough to scowl before he was grabbed, cuffs tightening around his wrists quickly. His hands heated up quickly, almost on instinct, but the fire was contained and he quickly hid a grimace. His hands were burnt, he could feel it. “Two traitors in one day, the Fire Lord _will_ be pleased.”

He looked towards the Great Fire Sage, “Store the prisoners in the dungeons until I come for them.”

“Commander Zhao, we don’t have dungeons,” the sage said, a hint of hesitance ringing true. Before Zhao could snap--and he did, easily. He never had control over his temper, his Uncle had said--the sage continued, “But we do have a meditation room that locks with no windows. It’s to keep our sages centered and--”

Zhao waved a hand, “Yes, that should work.”

Panic weaved itself through Zuko as he was dragged after the Great Fire Sage. He tried to kick, he tried to fight, but with every movement, his brain felt like it was being thrown. Thrown and then crushed by a tiger-rhino. He didn’t stop fighting, no matter how sluggish his movements became _\--weak, pitiful, failure--_ until he was thrown into the meditation room, the two water brats behind him, and the door locked.

He didn’t move from the heap for a good click and a half--he had counted, slowly, breathing, slowly, to get his pounding head under control--and then he was up; he was up and in the farthest corner away from the water tribe brats.

The dreadful feeling caught back up to him and he remembered his Uncle’s words.

This truly was a foolish plan and now he couldn’t take it back.


	2. Banished Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka's P.O.V. with brief talks with Zuko!

Sokka knew they shouldn't have come to this stupid Fire Nation temple. He tried to convince Katara but noooo. Aang needed to go and Katara wouldn't let him leave alone so of course he had to go along to make sure neither of them got too seriously hurt, because that’s what older brothers did.

Neither of them even seemed to care that they had been shot at. Or that he had _almost died by falling off Appa_ , and if that wasn’t some kind of omen, he didn’t know what was.

And _now_ , Aang was going to exit his stupid magic talk right into a trap and he and Katara were locked in a room with the guy who had chased them around the world for over a moon. The guy who had threatened them all multiple times and had threatened Sokka’s village. The same village he swore to his dad he’d take care of.

The same guy that was called _Prince_ Zuko and thrown in a cell with them.

They were trapped for who knows how long and so it was with no consternation that he turned to his _beloved_ younger sister and spoke the words of all mature young men. “I told you so.”

Katara turned to him, a fierce glare with worry in her eyes as she hissed back at him, “Yes, Sokka, you did. And now, we have to get out of here. Aang could be in trouble!”

“He’s the Avatar, he can take care of himself. If we want to help him, we need to get out of here first!”

Katara’s glare burned brighter, “That’s what I just said! Don’t you ever listen!”

He scoffed, crossing his arms and looked away. Sisters were just the worst, especially sisters who were in _loooooove_. They’d known the boy for barely two new moons and Katara would follow Aang to the ends of the world. It was insane is what it was and whenever he brought up the topic with his sister-- _because he was her brother, that’s what he did_ \--she always brought up Suki.

And that was different. Because he knew he wasn’t in love with Suki. It was a brief infatuation that burned out after a week. And maybe Katara had a crush, and maybe the “Spirits” brought them together or other strange ideas of love she could think of; but it was--it was strange, unnatural.

Sokka was being dragged around the world in an, admittedly, awesome adventure because his sister liked the Avatar, though she would cover it up with the need to find a waterbending teacher up North.

Their sister tribe had abandoned them many moons before, always refusing to help during raids--why did Katara think they would help now.

“You won’t be able to get out.” Sokka’s head shot around to where the firebender was standing in the opposite corner, away from them. He looked rough, his hair slipping out of his wolftail and a faint line of blood coming from a wound on his head, opposite the giant scar that covered his left eye.

He wobbled on his feet but he didn’t seem to realise it as unfocused golden eyes stared at them. It wasn’t menacing, no heat behind them. His shoulders sagged for some unknown reason but straightened once he noticed their eyes on him.

And all Sokka did was stare because he didn’t expect the firebender to start talking, especially not to _them_. He also did not expect for Zuko-- _Prince_ Zuko, he had to remind himself, if only to be able to annoy him later. He was called a Prince by that guy that is waiting to ambush Aang--to look worse than they did. And--

“Of course we will,” Katara stated, ice dripping off her voice. It was the same tone of voice she generally had when he shucked his share of chores to her, a mix of annoyance and hatred.

Zuko just continued to stare at her before rolling his eye and turning to face the wall. It was silent for a beat, then two, before Katara stood and started pacing. It was quick and a pain to look at for too long but he did.

She stopped before turning to Zuko, a glare on her face again. “Why wouldn’t we be able to get out?”

He turned to face the two of them and stared again, as if to judge them on some quality before speaking. “We’re in a room made out of volcanic earth with a locked door and no windows. We’re not getting out. We’ll be sent to the Fire Lord and killed. The Avatar will be chained instead of killed, and the Fire Nation will share its greatness with the rest of the world.”

Sokka narrowed his eyes. He should doubt the Prince, the son of the Fire Lord, the enemy of everybody. He _is_ doubting the firebender, but there was a sincere look in his eyes. He wasn’t the best at judging someone’s character, but there was a bit too much heaviness to his words, a bit too much tightness around the edge of his mouth, a bit too rigid in his shoulders. He was a bit _too much_ to be lying.

Katara opened her mouth, but he raised a hand. She could yell at him later but one thing had stood out. “Why would you be killed? You’re his _son_.”

Zuko stared at him before narrowing his eyes, apparently trying to burn them with his eyes, “As if you don’t know.”

Sokka snuck a glance to Katara and was pretty sure his face matched her confusion. What did he mean? He stated it as if it was common knowledge, as if they were being rude and--what were they missing?

“Uhh, dude, we _don't_ know.”

Zuko’s eyes caught his again and there was genuine surprise there before he scoffed again, muttering under his breath. He didn’t catch a word of what he said, but it didn’t matter because his voice was audible again. “If you two water brats don’t know then you don’t deserve to know.”

This time, he didn’t stop Katara from shouting, because if she didn’t do it, he would have. “Water brats? Water brats! We are not water brats just because you don’t understand us! Why would you even _think_ that?! If anything, _you’re_ the brat--chasing us around everywhere. Who even does that!

“You may be after Aang, but he’s just a kid! How do you even sleep at night knowing you’ve hurt so many people hunting down a _kid_?” She paused to take a breath, stalking towards him and Zuko’s eyes widened.

That emotion was fear, Sokka could tell, before Zuko glared again, staring down at his sister and bristling. He smirked and, before she could start ranting even more, he spoke. “I sleep rather well, thank you for asking.”

“Of course you do! You’re just a heartless ashmaker! Who knows how many kids you’ve hurt before!”

Katara must not have noticed what she was doing, but Sokka’s eyes widened as a small strand of water started forming. There was no water in here, unless--

His hands wiped at his forehead and, yes. His sister was somehow drawing water out of her sweat--or the water in the air, but that would have been significantly harder and she couldn’t do that.

Zuko seemed to notice too for his eyes hardened and, when Katara brought her hands down, the water stream that had grown striking like a whip, and he spun, the water striking the cuffs.

Sokka forgot they had put Zuko in cuffs.

Katara gasped but nothing else happened. The cuffs didn't look damaged at all and apparently Zuko could tell because he cursed, curses Sokka had never heard but sounded so harsh he hardly needed to know the meaning to understand them.

"I really wished that would work."

"What did I do?" Katara asked, staring at her hands, and Zuko shook his head.

"You're a waterbender and you don't know?" Zuko turned around to face them once more and glared, "You drew the water out of both your sweat and the air."

"But that's--that's ridiculous! Only Masters could do something like that!"

Sokka shook his head and walked over, not missing how Zuko shuffled closer to the wall, and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I don't know, Katara. You certainly made it happen just now." He then turned back to Zuko and stared, hard.

They weren’t getting out until Aang could get out, he knew that. Zuko was right about the room and, since they weren’t dead yet because of him, Zuko couldn’t get out of those cuffs and couldn’t help them get out, it was time to make conversation with the prince.

“Your father wouldn’t actually kill you, would he? I mean, even the Fire Lord couldn’t be that bad.”

Zuko looked at him, longer than he had expected, and sighed, shoulders slumping in a decision, “Yes, he would. He’s certainly never been light on punishing me before.” His face scrunched and his hands raised before he remembered he was cuffed. It was such a confusing action--why would he do that?

“Why would your father punish you? What kind of punishment deserves death?”

Katara answered before Zuko could, “None. None whatsoever. Even if the person is an ashmaker.”

Zuko took a deep breath before he finally sat on the floor, or rather, collapsed. “I was banished. I’m banished and in Fire Nation territory. The only consequence for returning to the Nation is death.” His eyes were closed, a frown marring his face--although, that may be his default expression.

Katara stared at the prince--the banished prince--a moment longer before looking at Sokka with an expression that made him groan. That was the look she got when she was going to do anything to get what she wanted.

It was the look right before she convinced him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

She had used it right before she convinced herself, and then him, and then Gran-gran to let them go with the Avatar. She had used it before he followed them on each and every adventure Aang wanted to go on. She had used it to convince Sokka that it was a good idea to go into the Fire Nation with Aang instead of fleeing the other way.

Tui and La, it was going to work as well.

He groaned, “What are you planning, Katara?”

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a deep rumble and the walls shaking, making them tripping over their feet. Clattering metal footsteps echoed outside and there was heat encompassing the room. The door crumbled as the walls rumbled again and the ceiling started to droop.

Katara breathed out, eyes wide, “It’s the Avatar state. Aang must have made contact with Avatar Roku.”

“How do you know that?” Sokka exclaimed before shaking his head. “It doesn't matter now. We need to get out of here. Now!” He looked to Zuko, realising belatedly he hadn’t moved. When the walls shook once more, he was jostled enough that it was evident Zuko had passed out. They couldn’t leave him, even if he was the Fire Prince and the person who had chased them around the world. He was human who was afraid of his father. Sokka was raised right, and that right would be to save him now and deposit him later.

Katara had the same thought for she had already grabbed Zuko’s left arm and glared at Sokka, “Help me!”

The Prince was heavy, probably because of all the armor he was wearing, and it was difficult to carry him due to the position of his arms. They slowly made their way through the temple, avoiding the Fire Nation guards and the patchy floors. It was like an extreme game of avoid-the-fishing-holes, a game commonly played in the South by the kids. Sokka was a master but having to lead both him and Katara through it whilst carrying the unconscious Prince was next to impossible!

It was slow going, but they made it back to the area where Aang was just collapsing. Katara dropped Zuko, Sokka grunting under the extra weight as she rushed forward.

“Aang!” She helped him rise to his feet. Aang looked weary but was already standing mostly by himself.

“Thanks, Katara. Where’s Shyu?” Sokka repositioned Zuko so that the Prince was mostly on his back. Of course Aang was worried about someone else. It also made it harder to not strangle him and then Katara for getting them into _even more_ trouble.

“I don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head. Sokka glanced around before yelping--a very manly yelp. Anything else would be a _lie_.

“Hey, uh, guys? We should get going,” he said, gesturing with his head as much as he could to the creeping lava. It wasn’t there when they were coming back so it must have risen fast.

Aang looked around as well. He paused at the sight of Zuko but quickly passed on, and pointed to the wall with a giant hole in it. “We can get out over here! I can airbend us down!”

He ran over, Katara quickly behind him and Sokka slower. It was really unfair that Katara had just left him with the dead weight and it was stupid that the Prince weighed so much. Why did he even pass out in the first place? It was random and rather inconvenient.

Thankfully, they wouldn’t have to rely on Aang’s airbending--not that there was anything wrong with it, but the kid was flighty and could be distracted in a moment. He wasn’t a bender but he knew that concentration was important. Appa and Momo had arrived, just below them. It was terrifying, to jump with an unconscious person in his arms and just hope that Appa would catch him. He most certainly did not scream, either, no matter what Katara said.

He lay Zuko down on the saddle, sitting next to him so he wouldn’t fall or freak out once he woke up. Even with him sleeping, he looked fierce, but less so.

Aang landed up front, Katara next to him and guided Appa away from the crumbling, destroyed temple.

When they were an appropriate distance away, Aang turned to Sokka, questions dancing in his eyes and with a tilt of his head. “Why do we have Zuko?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna put this here: I am not bashing on any ships including Katarang and Sokka/Suki. I may not like the former because it always seemed forced to me, but it will have its uses.  
> Also, I am an awkward bean who does not know how to write dialogue...or any injuries... But! I tried so I hope you enjoy!  
> Also also, thank you guys so much for the appreciation shown! I feel so proud of myself :3  
> I hope you guys are doing well!


	3. Prisoner Zuko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gaang discuss Zuko, Sokka is annoyed, Zuko awakens! ...and panics, but he awakes!

Sokka didn’t know how to answer, how _could_ he answer? They had the Prince of the Fire Nation--apparently a _banished_ Prince--on Appa, flying away from the same Nation that the Prince was from. It would have been safer for them to just leave him but--

“We couldn’t just _leave_ him. The place was collapsing and if we’d left him there, he would have died.”

Aang looked confused and, if Sokka was in his place, he would have been confused as well. “Didn’t he have any Fire Nation soldiers with him?” Aang shook his head, “Not that I’m saying what you did was wrong, but why couldn’t we have just dropped him off with the others?”

Katara shook her head and he could see Aang’s entire posture shift as he looked at her. He was more relaxed, more focused on her than their travel and Sokka wished he had a wall he could bash his head into. Again, _two moons_ , and they were always focused more on one another. “No, we couldn’t have done that. And he’s injured. He wouldn’t have been able to make it out himself.”

“Injured!” Sokka yelped. Because, sure, his head was bleeding rather heavily and he did seem dizzy when he was standing, but what else could be that bad?

Katara sent him an annoyed look and crawled--because standing on Appa was always a bad idea even though Aang did it effortlessly and Katara and he had learned that early on--over to Zuko’s side. “Of course. You wouldn’t just fall asleep in front of those you assume to be enemies, right? So why would he?” She turns his head to get a better look at the wound, stopping for just a second to furrow her brow at the bright red scar on his face, before crawling more to her bag she had set aside for bandages.

He opened his mouth, holding up a finger before closing it and crossing his arms. She was right, but he wasn’t going to admit it. Her face told him that he didn’t need to.

Aang walked back to them, “He’ll be okay, right?” He looked genuinely worried, sounded it too, and Sokka had to wonder how a kid could show empathy for their enemy--he was a hypocrite of course, but Aang seemed to go through much more with the Prince.

Katara nodded, returning back to the Prince’s side and easily wrapping the head wound. “Yes. It looked like a concussion. Gran-gran used to patch these up all the time whenever the boys hit their head on the ice and I used to help. He should be fine with some rest.”

She looked up with a smirk, “I’m pretty sure Sokka still holds the record of receiving them. Twenty-seven, wasn’t it?”

Sokka glared at her as she went back to wrapping the injury. Concussions were not fun and they were hard to deal with. “Twenty-nine, actually,” he mumbled.

“Soooo, why couldn’t we leave him with the Fire Nation?” Aang asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“He said his dad would kill him,” Sokka replied, disgust forming in the pits of his stomach. It may have just been a ploy, but there had been _too much_ in his voice when he had said those words and if it was just a ploy, it was a terrible one. If it was real… He didn’t even want to think about it.

Aang stared for a second, mouth agape and Sokka felt bad. He could’ve been less blunt when telling that to a twelve year old, but how else could he say something like that?

“We’re not sure if that’s true, Aang,” Katara reassured. She was putting the bandages away. The ones on Zuko’s head covered a large majority of the right side of his head but barely touched his face. Katara had tried to avoid his hair as much as possible, but she hadn’t been able to avoid the square-looking patch surrounding his wolftail. The bandages made him look smaller than usual. “It could have been an exaggeration or some kind of stunt for us to pity him. Just because someone says something doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But--why would he be killed?”

Sokka shook his head, “Because they’re Fire Nation and they don’t care for anyone other than themselves...and sometimes themselves as well. He’s a banished prince and, apparently, the consequence of him being in Fire Nation territory is death.”

Aang still looked worried, “We’re not sending him back, right?” His voice trembled and Katara pulled him down into a hug. Sokka closed his eyes and sighed, wishing for--something. He didn’t know what. Maybe for Aang to not worry about their enemy, maybe for Zuko to not have told them that. Maybe it was for the end of the war or a peaceful world.

Or maybe it was for him to not have to be the one put together so he could cry out the disgusting feelings at the thought of a kid--because that’s all he was--dying--even if it was their enemy. Maybe just so he could cry anyway, from all the happenstances that lead them to this moment, all the harrowing adventures that made them risk their lives or the lives that had ended already.

Of having to leave his relatively peaceful life where he knew everything and everyone and exiting into the unknown.

Either way, he wished for something that he didn’t know. And he wished he knew.

“What do we do with him now,” Aang asked after some time. And it was an important question. They had to do something with him--drop him off somewhere, turn him in, keep him prisoner--

“We keep him as a prisoner!” Katara and Aang looked at him weirdly and he explained as fast as he could. “Think about it! We have access to the cuffs that are weirdly resistant to bending and even though he can bend with his feet, it’d be easier to watch out for! And if he ends up escaping we wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. We’d only have to get another camp roll and give him some food every now and again and we’re set!”

“Actually, that isn’t too bad of an idea,” Aang mused. Katara’s befuddled expression turned to him, shock decorating her features. Aang waved his hands around in defense as he stood up, pacing up and down Appa’s back. “He wouldn’t be able to chase us because he’d be _with_ us and those cuffs--” Aang’s face became tight and he looked worried again. “What do you mean cuffs that are resistant to bending?”

Sokka gestured to Zuko who, despite laying on his back, had his hands still cuffed behind his back. Sokka winced, that must be uncomfortable, but there was no way that he’d fix that position. “Katara couldn’t get him out and we just have to assume that he couldn’t get out of it himself.”

Aang bent down and rolled Zuko onto his side, looking at his cuffs. He tried something with his air, a concentrated blast that ended after it hit the cuffs. His face formed into something that accentuated the confusion and tried it again. And again. And again. And shook his head. “It’s weird. Once my air hit them, it disappeared; I couldn’t feel it anymore.”

That was confusing but that wasn’t the focus at the moment. Sokka shook his head, “That doesn’t matter right now, we’re not trying to free him anyway. What does matter is if we keep him prisoner.” He looked to Katara who was staring at Aang and Zuko, her hands fluttering nervously. She was restless, wanting to do something, he could see that, but that doesn’t make the situation better.

“Katara,” he snapped, and winced. A sharper tone of voice had her head turning around quickly to face him but he felt guilty. She was obviously freaking out about--something, but she had to agree.

He took a breath in and, in a much calmer voice, said, “Should we take him as prisoner?”

She looked unsure, glancing around them, before nodding surely. “If that’s what it takes to get him to stop chasing us around the world and to keep others safe, then, yes.”

Sokka sighed, relieved before smiling, a weight he didn’t know was there off his chest, “It’s settled then, we keep him!”

~`~`~`~`

Aang was unsettled about something, Katara could tell. It was in his movements, the sometimes stilted words and the stuttering movements. How his face changed at moments and then tried to revert back into something happy and carefree.

Also with how he was pacing, breathing rapidly and looking so worried.

She was still sitting with Zuko as Sokka took the reins. They were flying over mountains, somewhere close to Fire Nation territory still, but far enough into the Earth Kingdom where she could breathe freely. The sun was starting to make the other half of its arc across the sky, and she wished Aang would settle.

Momo, at some point, had settled on Zuko’s chest, hissing at anyone who tried to move him. He slept as peacefully as a flying-lemur could on a flying-bison, which is to say, not under the best conditions but still slept.

Sokka must have finally snapped as he said in his calm voice that said-- _I am not calm at all, just too annoyed to be annoyed_ \--”Would you sit down? If we hit a bump, you’ll go flying off. What’s bugging you anyway?”

Katara’s gaze steeled on Aang, hoping that he’d admit what was wrong when he deflated some. Worry was her most prominent emotion at how he was acting and it only grew as he spoke. “It’s what Avatar Roku said. I’m supposed to master all four elements before Sozin’s Comet arrives.”

“I’m sorry--what? What’s Sozin’s Comet?” she asked. And she wasn’t even going to begin pondering how this twelve year old boy, her _friend_ , was supposed to master all four elements. “ _When’s_ Sozin’s Comet?”

“This Bĭngzĭ! It’s a comet that boosts firebending! And I have to master all four elements before it arrives! Most Avatars have _years_ and I have less than one!” Aang yelled. Wind started picking up between them and his hands as he flung them around, growing as he stated each concern. “I’ve only mastered airbending and we’re still at least seven days away from the North Pole! And how long will it take to master waterbending?! And then finding an earthbending teacher and then finding someone willing to teach me firebending! It’s not enough time!”

Katara reacted before she thought, before Aang sent them all off Appa on accident, and stood up, stabling herself by putting a hand on Aang’s arm. She pulls him down so he’s sitting and stares at him, hoping she was calming him down. “If you want, I can try to teach you some of the stuff I know.”

Aang smiled, hopeful and so relieved that it made her smile as well, “You’d do that?”

She nodded, relieved she could calm him down and make him think of something else. She’d do anything to help him, he was important to her--like Sokka but, different, she thought. It was a different kind of affection. “Of course. We’ll need to find a good source of water first.”

She couldn’t see Sokka, but she could hear the sarcasm and the roll of his eyes. “Maybe we can find a puddle for you to splash in.”

~`~`~`~`

When they landed, Katara left with Aang immediately, leaving Sokka to unpack everything and Appa to collapse from flying so long in two different, close-together trips. He wished he could just sleep like Appa did, anywhere and anytime he wanted to, and just spread out with as much room as he needed. In a camp roll, he could hardly move and it sucked.

Sokka looked at the fun time Katara and Aang were having and--it wasn’t hate, but similar. Jealousy! It was jealousy!--envy filled him. Why would they shirk off their duties just to leave him alone with two animals and an unconscious firebender? Why should he have to set everything up? It must be payback for always making Katara do his chores at the South. The Spirits were playing some trick on him.

Well, it wasn’t funny.

It was simple to get the materials down and their makeshift camp set up. After all, he’d been doing it for a while, it just took longer without help. The difficult part was climbing down Appa whilst carrying an unconscious firebender who was still in heavy armor _without_ falling. It was awkward and he wished he could curse at Aang for not using his airbending magic when he had the chance. But nooooo, let the nonbender do everything while the two go practice their water magic.

It was done, eventually. It required another awkward maneuvering of the passed out Prince on his back and then carefully climbing down Appa’s least steep side and even then, he fell the last couple of steps onto his knees. He couldn’t be happier once he set him down, propped against a tree in their camp area.

He looked to Katara and Aang, neither of them actually practicing waterbending, and sighed. Of course he had to do everything by himself because they were goofing off.

He stretched, his back popping, as a loud splash had him turning around. He grinned--Appa had the best ideas, and as fast as he could go, ran to the water, stripping as he went, and making sure to keep Zuko in his sights at all times.

~`~`~`~`

Zuko didn’t wake for dinner. Aang had, in a moment of empathy, moved him so he leaned against Appa, Momo curled into the firebender’s side.

~`~`~`~`

His head hurt so much. It was pounding and he wished it would stop. He’d rather take Uncle preaching to him about how tea is the best thing in the world than the pounding that filled his head and made him feel too small for his body. It wasn’t even containing itself as it traveled down his arms and into his chest, all pulsing in pain and never at once. His head would pulse and then his chest and then an arm and then his chest again and it was too random to predict where the pain would hit.

_Agni_ , this headache was more than a headache and he just wished the pain to leave.

It was too long before his brain registered the feeling of staying still, not the gentle swaying the Huǒlóng usually had to it. The swaying was generally soothing, so was that what woke him up? Besides the pain of course, he could ignore pain, but he just felt _wrong_. This was too wrong to just be still.

It took even longer to register that he couldn’t smell the sea. He heard water, but it didn’t smell like the sea. There wasn’t that salty, almost repugnant smell, that was all over the ship no matter how much he attempted to be rid of it. He almost wished it was there, so he could relax. He wanted the faint smell of the cannonballs and his Uncle’s tea mixing to make something even worse. Why couldn’t he smell that?

_No worries_ , his mind whispered, and he relaxed into his furry pillow. Because it wasn’t soft tonight, it was furry--which was weird but why should he complain. It was still comfortable and he could still settle against it nicely. If only it didn’t grumble and move so much.

He shot up as fast as he could, suddenly awake and looking around frantically. His pillow _moved_. Pillows don’t move, they’re not supposed to move. So why did it move?  
His sight finally rested on the supposed pillow-not-pillow and he jerked, moving backwards. He raised his arms to catch himself and--

Fell. His arms didn’t move. Why hadn’t his arms moved?! Why couldn’t he move his arms?! Who bound his arms?

The flames that instinctively burned at his panic died completely, disappearing when they touched whatever was binding his arms together and he panicked. This was wrong, so very wrong, because his arms were bound and he was just using the Avatar’s Agni-damned flying pet as a pillow and--

_Why was he here?_ Why wasn’t he on the Huǒlóng? Why was he on dry ground with the Avatar’s flying thing and probably near the Avatar? And why was he bound?

_Breathe, Prince Zuko_ , his mind supplied in the voice of Uncle. And he did, a spluttering, panicked breath in that made him cough once and did no help to alleviate the pounding in his head, and he sat up the best he could. Out. In and it wobbled. Out. _Power comes from the breath. So does the mind_. _Your mind is your greatest power._ In. Out. Calm.

He wasn’t the best at calm, but he tried, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at the _thing--Flying bison, Prince Zuko_ , his Uncle says. _The Airbenders had flying bison as friends and transportation. They were who originally taught the airbenders of their powers_ \--and breathed. Stuttering breaths that eventually slowed and a pounding mind that calmed the panic.

He opened his eyes, standing up as gracefully as he could, and he looked around. His eyes caught on the Avatar and the two Water Tribe brats before his eyes caught the water. He walked--not stumbling, because that is _not_ how a Prince should act--towards it, using the faint light of Tui to look at his reflection. He had a bandage around the side of his head-- _don’t freak out, not again. It isn’t around your eye_ \--and his hands were cuffed behind his back using the Fǎn xiàng wānqū cuffs the Fire Nation had invented. How did the Avatar get a pair of these? How did any of them know what they could do?

He looked to Tui, and calculated how far he would get if he started walking now. He was sapped of energy because he wasn’t in Agni’s presence, but he could still walk for as long as he needed to get _away_ from the Avatar while he himself was vulnerable.

He turned and walked, _away_ , his head pounding with each step he took and his feet stumbling. What had happened--what did they _do_ to him? He couldn’t--he couldn’t remember past Senlin Village and the gnawing fear and dread that he was going to follow the Avatar to Crescent Island. Everything else was missing and he hated it.

He took another step, bracing himself against a tree and kept moving. Maybe if he could get back to Uncle, he could explain everything. Because he didn’t know and that was enough to pour into the goblet of worry and have it almost overflow. He didn’t like _not_ knowing, especially when it concerned his health and his safety. If he could, he would take the Avatar now and sneak off into the night but he couldn’t.

A chittering caught him off guard before a weight landed on his right shoulder. He shrugged to get it off but it kept swiping back at his ear and he stopped. Panic seeped into his bones as he wondered just what creature had landed itself on his shoulder, burning as hot as his fire, and he slowly turned his head to meet the eyes of the flying-lemur the Avatar carried around. It’s eyes were huge, bulbous, really, and it blinked before climbing to the top of his head and grabbing his phoenixtail.

“Hey!” he hissed, shaking his head. It didn’t deter the lemur as it jumped, pulling the Prince with it and back towards the camp. And, because his motor skills weren’t great, he followed, stumbling over the ground as he went. The yank made his scalp tingle and his head pulse, feeling too small once more.

His head hurt too much to protest as the lemur stopped by the bison again and sat upon his head as if he were a perch. He sighed, shaking his head vigorously once more to see if he could shake it off, and sat once it did nothing. He didn’t relax though, sitting as straight as he could despite his head protesting, and thought.

He had nothing to do so he waited. He waited and thought until Agni decided to finally chase Tui from the sky and bless the horizon with himself. And Zuko was able to meditate, finally, with the guidance of Agni.

In and out and calm.

In and out and calm.

In and out and calm.

Focusing on the breath until that was all he could think of.

Until the pain evaporated with Agni’s calm.

And until he breathed out once more, back into the real world, with Agni’s rise past.

It wasn’t the best meditation he had done--his hands weren’t correct, he wasn’t sitting right, and he didn’t have a flame--but he felt better.

His eyes focused on the camp roll moving, just before the waterbender met his gaze and jumped.

She approached him and he sneered. He didn’t want her anywhere near him when he was like this, not when he couldn’t defend himself if she decided to attack. And it was entirely possible with him bound and her not, them enemies. It’s what he would do.

Except, she held her hands up in a placating motion, speaking with a voice still thick with sleep, “I just want to check your bandages and see if they need to be changed.”

And he’s confused. Confused enough that he let her get near him and he stayed silent as she unwrapped the bandages around his head and changed them, humming as she went. Why was she nice to him? He was a prisoner, was he not? That’s why he was bound, so why would they change his bandage.

When she stood up, he ground out the words, “Thank you.” The shock and surprise on her face made him scoff. He may not have wanted to, but his mother and Uncle made sure he knew his manners. If this wasn’t a one-time occurrence and he could be on their good side, he would.

He knew what happened to prisoners who weren’t on their captive’s good side.

The others woke up with tired “good morning”s and “how did you sleep”s greeted at one another. Nobody spoke a word to Zuko until they had almost finished cooking breakfast--which was a mixture of some sort of stew that smelled like it would fit on the Huolong and nuts that he wasn’t entirely sure was edible. He was almost glad they didn't offer him any.

The Avatar turned to him and asked a very simple question that had his mind pound worse than it had before.

“Is it true? Would you really be killed if we left you in the Fire Nation?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing (read: literally zilch, nada, nothing) about medicine or concussions. The furthest my knowledge of medicine goes are bandaids. Otherwise, it's nothing! I know that concussions leave you out of school for a while and that's all.  
> If you want a BS reason as to why Sokka has had so many and survived, it's because non-benders evolved, especially those in the South Pole. A lot of ice is a lot of slipping. Lots of slipping is a lot of head injuries. A lot of head injuries means, slowly, through the years, the Southern Water Tribe's skulls became thicker to account for all the injuries and their brains kind of toughened. Therefore, concussions don't bother them as much!  
> As for Zuko and other benders, I have this theory I only just thought of today that they don't get hurt as often as their bending magic/power would keep them as healthy as possible. And if they were to get hurt, it would heal quicky.  
> But, I am not a doctor and I must push you to not listen to my medical "expertise".
> 
> Anyway, onto something that doesn't latch onto my lack of medical knowledge, you guys! You guys are so freaking awesome! One of these past nights I fell asleep and then I woke up with eight new comments and I cried reading them all! You are all brilliant people! Everybody who has read and left Kudoses (Kudosi? Kudos?) and commented! Just know I love you all!
> 
> A part I cut out:  
> Sokka: "We can hold him for ransom!"  
> No, Sokka, we can't.  
> Just, Aang or Katara with the straightest face ever, just done with Sokka.
> 
> Also, Huolong means Fire Dragon and Fǎn xiàng wānqū means reverse bending...according to Google Translate. It’s supposedly simplified Chinese and I was wondering if anybody would be willing to check that for me--or really, just let me know if Google Translate did its job this time and did /not/ fuck everything up.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you're doing well! I hope you're doing well until my next update :3


	4. The Waterbending Scroll - Revised~

“Is it true? Would you really be killed if we left you in the Fire Nation?”

Despite not having a lot of tact with his questions, Aang did know how to get to the heart of a matter. Of course, Sokka had no room to talk as his questions were no less sensitive, especially when it concerned the Fire Prince. It had only been one rise of Tui since they had talked and yet, questions had formed in both his conscious and subconscious mind.

And Aang was able to hit the question that had been at the forefront since the day before, since the Fire Prince had decided to open his mouth in that stupid meditation room and Katara and him had grown a stupid conscience. Because it had to be pity for the enemy, for not leaving him somewhere where they didn’t have to deal with him. It had to be something other than caring for their enemy because his life was in danger--it shouldn’t matter, but it _does._

Unless the Spirits were interfering and the thought made Sokka laugh, laugh and roll his eyes because the only thing the Spirits were good for was making a chaotic joke.

Zuko looked in pain, but just caught off-guard, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Or maybe he just wasn’t expecting any questions. He shifted and scowled, spitting out the singular word, “Yes.”

Aang leaned in, as if he were expecting a story but Zuko only glared. It lasted, maybe a minute before Aang spoke again, “Sooooo, you were banished?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Zuko’s face scrunched again, expressions flitting across faster than Sokka could decipher before it landed on a sneer. His scar caught in the light of Agni and Sokka finally got a good look at it. He had had burns from messing around the fire in the South Pole, and one had scarred near his hip, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Zuko’s.

It was large, concentrated directly at the eye and branching out across his cheek and towards his ear. It went up as well, splaying across his forward. The burns mostly spread out into five different directions, all close together, it was strange.

It looked painful, even if it was all healed, all scarred over. He knew scars could hurt because the elders used to complain when it got too cold or too warm or just _too_ anything.

“It’s none of your business, Avatar,” Zuko spat, and Sokka crossed his arms. Had he really not known their names? He had been hunting them for two moons-- _two moons_ \--and he never bothered learning their names. After, like, the third encounter with him they had learned his name and now he was basically saying he didn’t know theirs.

How rude.

“Aang!” he called cheerfully. At Zuko’s confusion, he elaborated, “My name’s Aang and that’s Katara and that’s Sokka,” he pointed at both of them as he said their names. “And, well, since we’ll be travelling together with you as our prisoner and all that, it’s only right you know our names!”

Zuko’s face scrunched up even more, “So I _am_ your prisoner.”

Sokka nodded, “Well, duh. I mean, why _else_ would you be with us? It stops you from getting killed and it stops you from hunting us--win-win, right?” He froze. He hadn’t meant to say the first part of their reason aloud. It was a spur of action thing and his mouth was always faster than his filter.

Zuko’s eyes widened, just a smidge, and his shoulders slumped. “Oh. Uhh-” he looked awkward now, eyes darting around, “thanks.” He cleared his throat, all manners disappearing with his narrowed eyes as he spat out, “How did I get here anyway?”

“We rode here on Appa!” Aang’s cheery voice rang out. And Sokka couldn’t be happier for the child. His inability or ignorance of the tension between Zuko and them was astounding but it kept the conversation--or was this an interrogation? With Zuko just answering the questions and being tied up, it felt more like an interrogation--going.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Katara spoke this time, voice even even as she glared back at him, “What did you mean, then?”

“I _mean_ , the last thing I remember was leaving Senlin Village to follow you into the Fire Nation. _What happened?_ ”

“You mean, you really don’t remember?” Katara asked, softer this time. She stared at him, not with the anger she previously held but with pity and some worry and Sokka almost sighed. She could hold a grudge longer than anyone he knew, but she always tended to be overly worried about everything--almost motherly.

He wondered at times if she was just acting like their mom would, trying to keep some form of her in their lives--even if Sokka couldn’t remember much and it was mostly just feelings and impressions of her.

“No, I don’t. Is--” and suddenly Zuko was worried, brows pinched together and he looked down, “Is Uncle okay? Is my crew okay?”

They shared a glance, all of them confused. None of them had spotted Zuko’s ship, none of them had even bothered to think about his crew, just about their safety. Would they get the same treatment if they were discovered in the Fire Nation? Had they saved one man just to have who knows how many executed?

And Zuko’s worry for them--it shows a humane trait, a compassionate trait they didn’t think ashmakers had. A trait that didn’t survive in wars in general.

“We--we don’t know,” Katara said softly. “You came to Crescent Island alone and when Zhao appeared you were locked in a room with us. We didn’t see your uncle or your crew. We didn’t even see your ship.” Zuko’s face fell and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

His face stayed carefully blank, “It’s not your fault. I don’t need your pity anyway.”

“But it’s not--” Katara started, and Sokka laid a hand on her arm. They weren’t going to talk about it anymore.

“Hey, Katara, Aang, weren’t you two going to practice your waterbending yesterday? You can do so today,” he said, overly loud and obnoxious and facing away from Zuko. Because he could have just lost his uncle, the crew he had been travelling with for who knows how many years. It had been hard losing his mother and maybe his crew was like that, like a family and maybe they were just other ashmakers who never connected with one another. Either way, he had looked distraught over them.

“We should?” Aang asked and Sokka nudged him in the ribs. “Oh, yes! We should! Come on, Katara! Show me your moves!”

Katara followed, slower than Aang as he ran ahead and jumped in the water, looking over her shoulder once before she called out to Aang, “Get on the shore!”

Sokka stared at the other boy before standing as well. “I better give Appa a bath--he stinks! Just,” and he couldn’t form the words, both in his head and just instinctively. Zuko was back to glaring, shoulders hunched defensively and eye blazing.

“Stay within sight, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an affirmation. He turned, whistled for Appa, and leaped in the water, forcing his mind away from the teenage prisoner.

~`~`~`~`

Zuko sat there, where he had been sitting for so long, for as long as he could before his muscles started protesting. He never stayed so still for so long. He lived on a boat, he had to help them out with keeping the ship in shape, he had firebending, he had so many things he could be doing and yet--

He could do nothing now. Absolutely nothing because he was cuffed and being held prisoner. But it was strange how they held prisoners, almost like they had never done so before.

(But they were kids, they probably hadn’t.)

He stood, the action silencing his thoughts. It was difficult standing, his head still throbbed and his hands were bound. He had never been so lucky to have learned under Master Piandao for years--he had learned how to be flexible and move without his arms and even his legs. That didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult, it was just easier.

He wanted to run again, wanted to get away, but now that they were all awake, it would be difficult to get away from them. And--some part of him didn’t want to. The same part that cared too much for his crew and Uncle and his family and the forty-first division. It was the part that cared too much and wanted, yearned to be in a place that cared too much as well.

It was the same part of him that he crushed down as his feet took him to the shore. He would play along with their game for now, accept their kindness, repay their kindness in turn, and maybe still be able to capture the Avatar-- _Aang,_ that traitorous part of his mind whispered. Whispered and invaded as it sank to his bones like fire.

Azula used to play similar games and he could get out of them if he played along…sometimes. Other times, it hurt worse once she had gotten what she wanted, a more searing sense of betrayal.

And--he hovered. He stayed on the beach, in Agni’s sight as the others played and practiced and cleaned in the water. He hovered around the water because the thought of Azula and him being in a vulnerable position made him think of the games they used to play on Ember Island. The games that made his Inner Fire flare.

Fire and water never mixed well, they fought and they were harmful to one another. One created steam, one snuffed the other out. He had been on water for three years and, whilst it had become a comfort, it still unnerved him. He never had to have his head dunked under the water when hunting for the Avatar either.

Water was encompassing, soaking everything and pulling down. It made everything heavier, suffocated if someone was in it for too long. It quenched a firebender’s Inner Fire, destroyed their Chi paths and made their fire burn themselves when they made to use it.

Azula used to come up behind him, either by the turtleduck pond or the sea by Ember Island and yelled, “How long can Zuzu hold his breath?” before holding him under water for too long to be considered healthy. Never long enough to hurt him, but enough to where it caused discomfort.

But water also had some good qualities as well. It could soothe burns, it could heal--or so Uncle said--it was the home of the turtleducks.

A smile came to his face, small just like a turtleduck itself, soft. That was the best part of water, it could house so many small critters.

He bent down, wishing he was back where he could be safe. He may be safe here but he wasn’t sure how long he would be--they may have saved him from being killed but that didn’t mean it would stop them from killing him.

Someone shouted and his head shot up--not in worry for them but worry for him. People shouting can mean someone getting hurt. The next thing he knew, though, was being drenched, being encompassed by the water, freezing, sputtering, before he started to steam.

“Yeah, I’ll say! You just “practiced” our supplies down the river,” Sokka shouted.

Zuko shivered--firebenders naturally burned hot, hotter than most, and the sudden change of temperature from Agni’s rays and Inner Fire to the cool water was shocking. He was glad he could dry quickly though, the steam rising off. As it was their natural body temperature, the Fǎn xiàng wānqū cuffs did nothing to stop it.

Sokka was out of the water first, shaking his head to be rid of the water before he glanced at him, eyes darting back to him just as quickly, “Wha--hey! What gives! I thought you couldn’t firebend in those cuffs!”

Zuko sneered before clearing his face. He was going to be nice, he was going to _play_ nice until he could leave. “It isn’t fire, you--” he paused. He couldn’t say peasant, that wasn’t seen as nice. “It wasn’t fire, Sokka. It was just heat. I still can’t firebend, but we naturally run hot.”

Sokka’s face was a mixture of surprise and glee and envy. Zuko was confused, it was such a strange combination of emotions and he wondered what was running through his mind. He didn’t have to wonder for too long as Sokka launched forward and Zuko prepared himself to attack. His hands may be bound but he could still fight.

It was surprising when all he felt was a hand on his unscarred cheek, a hand that lead to the boy who looked in wonder.

“You really are warm,” he said, before he pulled away. “That’s no fair! Why do the firebenders get to be warm!”

Zuko just stood still; he had wanted--he had wanted to do so many things at once. He had wanted to push him away, preserve his dignity and get away from the peasant. Inexplicably, probably the same part that didn’t want to run, had wanted to lean into the kind touch. A touch he so rarely got from most people since his mother had gone missing. That part of him wanted to be comforted by a single touch and Zuko _hated it._

Sokka started walking away before turning around, “Hey, you coming? You’re still supposed to be in our sights!” His words had Zuko walking slowly following him.

~`~`~`~`

“He can’t come with us to the shopping district! He doesn’t have a disguise!” Katara yelled, flinging her hands around.

“Why would he need a disguise?” Aang asked, tilting his head, and Zuko could hardly believe him. He was a known figure decked out in Fire Nation armour and colours with a giant burn across his face. Of course he would need a disguise. Maybe--and all evidence pointed to otherwise--the Avatar was just an idiot.

Katara raised an eyebrow and gestured to him, “Have you _looked_ at him? He looks exactly how a Fire Nation Prince should look! People will put two-and-two together and we don’t need others to hunt us down!”

The Avatar looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling softly, “Oh, right.”

“He should just stay in camp,” Katara said, much more calmly, and Zuko raised his own--his _only_ \--eyebrow. She calmed down if she was right, that was...interesting. And apparently she made idiotic decisions as well, letting him stay in the camp by himself. “Sokka can stay with him.”

Sokka, who had just been standing next to him leaning against a tree startled, “What? Why me?”

“Because I said so,” Katara said, whirling on her brother. There was a sharp look in her eye that made him tense but Sokka just laughed. Katara smirked, “And because you’d be the least helpful.”

That made Sokka stop laughing. “What? When have I ever been unhelpful! I’m always helpful!”

Katara just looked at him, raising an eyebrow again, but the sharp glint was gone. “Really? ‘Cause you never carry anything we buy.”

Sokka just opened his mouth and shut it. He recrossed his arms and leaned back into the tree, grumbling about “stupid sisters” and “just because she is right doesn’t make it true”. Zuko looked between the two--why weren’t they actually fighting?

Aang gasped, before smiling largely, “Appa can watch him! Can’t you, buddy!” He ran over to the thing’s-- _bison’s_ \--side and pat his side.

“Aang, that’s ridiculous,” Katara sighed and yet, Zuko could already see her crumbling at the choice. It was obvious how she cared for him and his opinions.

“Of course it isn’t! Appa can handle him!”

In the end, they leave Zuko alone with _Appa_ and the lemur. And--

And it’s his time to get away. He runs, even as the lemur pulls his hair because they stupidly left him alone without any _real_ guard. An animal that looked so lazy that it barely looked at him as he ran. He was alone, he had meditated, and--his phoenixtail came undone. It hurt, but he could put it back up later once he got back to Uncle.

He would have stayed if someone kept an eye on him, but there was no one. He could find Uncle, make sure he and his crew were safe and go back to hunting the Avatar when he wasn’t bound.

So he didn’t think twice about running by the bison. And the next thing he knew, his face was acquainted with the ground. His legs were--he tried to move them but a _whuff_ of air made him stop. His legs were pinned again and he was _stuck._

He cursed and he was grateful that he knew so many. Living on a ship with a bunch of sailors did pay off.

A small memory came back and he shoved his face into the dirt, thankful nobody was around to see.

At least he hadn’t been thrown down a bunch of stairs this time.

~`~`~`~`

Aang blew the whistle and Katara almost sighed. They didn’t have much money, only three copper pieces left, and Aang had just spent one of their last few coins on a whistle that didn’t work. Okay, she can get behind that. Maybe it does work and it only works near Appa, that could be a thing.

But, still--

“No offense Aang, but I’ll hold the money from now on.” She tried to keep her annoyance out of her voice as much as possible--he was still a kid, kids spent money on outrageous things. They should have expected this.

They started walking back to their camp, taking a long, windy road that had become a habit from being chased by Prince Zuko for so long. “So, we have bed rolls, food, bags, and small trinkets that we couldn’t say no to,” she started, “what else do we need?”

Sokka shook his head, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing the world could give us.” And Katara sighed. She didn’t like shopping for new supplies but it kept happening because of their adventures. She didn’t think she could see so much clothing in her life; everything at the South Pole was shared. If she grew out of a dress, it was given to a younger girl. She got an elder’s clothes, her brother got their dad’s. It was all passed down.

And yet, people in the Earth Kingdom were able to have so much that it was mind boggling.

Sokka stopped at another shop, one selling some kind of cloak that covered the entire body, a piece of clothing that only had two holes to put a person’s head through, and Katara pulled Aang along. He kept turning the whistle around his hands, staring at it pensively, and finally pocketed it once they stood at the beginning of the stall.

Sokka held one up to himself, a perfect fit, it would seem, and looked at her.

Before he could say anything, she was already shaking her head, “No, Sokka, we don’t have the coins to spare. Maybe next time.”

“But Katara! It’s only one copper coin and Zuko needs a disguise, right? It’ll work to cover everything!”

She stopped, looked around, before lowering her voice, “Be quiet. We’ll get it, but we can’t mention the Fire Prince’s _name_ in an Earth Kingdom market! Are you insane?” Her voice came out in a hiss, staring at Sokka intently before he nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Tui and La, I understand,” he said before holding a hand out for a coin. She inhaled slowly, before handing him one of the coins. The Prince better like it because she was not leaving him behind next time, not when he could easily escape. She may be kind when taking care of the wounded, but he was still the same person who attacked their home, who had hunted them around the world, and she seemed to be the only one who remembered it.

Sokka payed quickly and they were _so close_ to leaving the market before Aang was led aboard a ship with the promise of “curios”. Katara followed closely behind and Sokka, the cloak folded over his arm, after her.

It was an impressive shop, filled to the brim with weapons and masks, different shiny trinkets that seemed to come from all over the world. Some of them were creepy--like the monkey with ruby eyes--but some were also cute--a painted ceramic turtleduck bowl. It was a strange collection of objects to see together. How did they get around so much?

Her anger peaked when she found the stolen waterbending scroll. Who had they stolen it from? Did they hurt anyone to acquire it for free? Did the person who used to own it know it was missing?

And the person who was going to buy it--an Earth Kingdom _noble_ \--had decided it was more important in _their_ hands than someone who could actually waterbend.

This entire thing was ridiculous.

And when Aang said he could haggle, she already made plans. So whilst he was trying to buy a _waterbending scroll that was much more than one copper piece_ with a _single copper piece_ , she had made moves to sneak the scroll into her sleeve.

She felt bad, but nobody was going to use it correctly, certainly not pirates or someone from the Earth Kingdom. And they were going up North anyway, they could return it and she--she and _Aang_ \--could learn from it whilst they were heading there. Anyway, they stole it first.

“Okay, two copper pieces!” Aang said, his smile goofy and lighthearted. He was trying to imitate their voices as well, which was cute.

She crept up to him and whispered, maybe too harshly, she didn’t know, “Aang, can we get out of here? I feel like we’re getting weird looks.”

Aang nodded, “Aye, we be casting off now!”

Katara nodded and dragged him by his sleeve, catching Sokka on her way out, off the boat and away, not stopping when there was a commotion behind her.

“Wait--Katara, stop!” Aang yelled, and she did, because why wouldn’t she. She had a stolen waterbending scroll up her sleeve and he wanted to stop for the pirates she had stolen it from and why _wouldn’t_ she stop.

Because Aang would get them out of this trouble she got them into. He always did. It would end well and they’d still have the scroll and--

And they couldn’t lead them to their very valuable prisoner though, nor could she handle the waterbending scroll being taken away because Aang was _too good_ of a student. He may have mastered all four elements in previous lifetimes but that didn’t mean he had to be so good at everything he did.

And it only took a second for her to start walking again, the scroll bouncing around and hitting her wrist as she dragged the boys. “Trust me, Aang. We do not want to stop.”

“But--” the look she sent him did have him being quiet as he sped up.

“Katara, _what did you do?_ ” Sokka hissed. They were walking in a straight line again, far enough from the pirates where she could breathe. They had noticed but they hadn’t immediately stormed them either.

In response, she lifted up her left sleeve, the scroll sitting snugly in the crevice, as if it was a child that needed to be rocked.

She felt so guilty at the sight of it but just kept walking.

“You--You stole! Katara! That’s terrible!” Sokka yelled. They had made it back to the woods, close to their campsite that her shoulders finally relaxed and she could breathe completely. The pirates may not have actually noticed the scroll was gone yet.

Except the scroll wasn’t theirs, it wasn’t the pirates, it was the North’s and she could return it. The pirates had taken it in the first place and could learn from it, teach Aang as well.

It wasn’t bad if she stole it from pirates, right?

Once they reached the campsite, she didn’t feel too guilty anymore, a mischievous smile upon her face, “It isn’t stealing, Sokka. I like to call it,” she pretended to think for a moment, “”high risk trading”.”

Aang laughed and she felt better about it than she had before, “Good one, Katara.”

A voice a bit further away had her stopping though, “High risk trading?” She turned sharply, expecting a pirate or someone, but she had forgotten about the Prince. Her eyes scanned the clearing until she found him, trapped under one of Appa’s paws and looking annoyed, but curious as well.

“Yeah! We met pirates! I used to look up to them but they’re not that cool anymore!” Aang said, and Katara smiled. He was always so excitable, so joyous about every little thing that it was surprising. He looked on the bright side of everything.

“Katara stole a waterbending scroll from them,” Sokka explained, crossing his arms. “Now, what happened to you?”

Zuko blinked a crease forming between his brows, “I--” he took a breath in before letting it out, blowing dust and dirt everywhere. “I may have tried to run and Appa stopped me. We should leave.”

They shouted together, almost a perfect unison if they shouted the same words.

“Good boy, Appa!”

“You tried to run?!”

“Leave? Why do we have to leave?!”

Zuko blinked again and ignored her own question, looking at Sokka, “You stole from pirates. They’ll come looking for you sooner or later so it’d be better if we left sooner rather than later.”

Katara did not respect the Prince, but the fact that he told the truth about trying to leave and then warning them about the pirates did make him look better in her eyes. He was no way near good, but there was still something that made him warn them about the pirates.

The guilt was back, festering behind her chest because they were going to stay for another day, maybe more, if they could. She hadn’t even thought about the possible retaliation of the pirates beyond the market.

“Well, good thing we’re already packed,” she joked, and Sokka glared at her. He went over and helped the Prince up.

“We wouldn’t need to be packed already if you two didn’t send out previous supplies down the river... _again_.”

Aang pat Appa’s side, a smile on his face, “You up for a small flight, buddy?” The act earned him another _whush_ and Aang yelped. “He’s ready! Get on, everybody!”

Katara climbed up easily, the waterbending scroll heavy in her sleeve and Aang jumped up, Momo landing on his shoulder, chittering away.

She bit the inside of her cheek, and closed her eyes. Only two moons and she had already betrayed a moral her family had drilled into her-- _stealing was wrong._

But it was to survive. This scroll could help her and Aang and their entire group get out of trouble some day.

...But they had already been able to get out of trouble before. She didn’t need to steal. She put everybody in danger and she didn’t even know if she could bend these forms yet.  
Her shoulders hunched and not even the sight of Sokka awkwardly helping Zuko onto Appa’s saddle could make her smile. She had done something reckless and stupid, something that could have caused more trouble than it was worth.

“Appa!” Aang yelled once Sokka and Zuko was sitting, “Yip-yip!”

And they were off, sailing in the air, moments before pirates burst into their clearing.

Katara only closed her eyes as they left, the shouts of anger getting more distant.

They were safe.

She pulled out the scroll and unrolled it. Might as well get some studying off of it while they were in the air. She _did_ steal it for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not hate Katara. Do I dislike how her section of the chapter turned out...a bit, yeah. But, y'know what, her having guilt would make so much then her just being /okay with stealing/. I may like pirates as well, so I may be a bit biased, I may /be/ a pirate one week during the summer, and stealing is a no-no rule. Holding something for ransom? That works, but full on stealing? No.  
> Anyway, a fourteen year old girl, probably raised to have good morals and whatnot, would not be okay with stealing. We'll revisit the scroll as well, as well as her guilt...hopefully...as long as I don't forget.  
> Oh! This thing will be full of plotholes. I'll try to close as many as I can but I promise nothing!
> 
> Anyway, next chapter will probably be shorter, BUT! It may run away from me because I like the idea. I like the idea so much and it was going to be even longer before I wrote it but the fifth chapter seems fitting. 
> 
> Also, you guys are way too nice. Like, the best people ever! Like, I-wanna-write-more-than-two-chapters-a-week kinda nice. I have never written so frequently for a fanfic and it's because people are actually showing their interest and I love you all for it so freaking much!
> 
> I hope you guys are well and I'll see you Sunday-Monday ish! (At night...because I procrastinate!)


	5. He's Not Dead

He stared, back parallel, at the floor, his nose almost touching the obsidian. After three years, his body still knew the position well enough that it hardly protested the treatment on his old bones.

The heat that came off the flames that separated the Fire Lord from him were harsh, burning from the inside out; burning like a firebender’s Inner Fire would if they neglected firebending for so long. They burnt much too hot to be comfortable from the distance he bowed. These flames slowly cooked those who came to visit the Fire Lord. They burnt unlike the previous Fire Lord’s that always warmed from the inside, the ones that curled around his subjects and symbolised the utter care the previous Fire Lord had.

Though that may have been because the Fire Lord Azulon actually cared for his subjects and his sons. Now, they had Fire Lord Ozai, the man who had no idea how to run a nation or care for his citizens or his children.

“Why request a meeting, Prince Iroh?”

He didn’t raise his eyes to his younger brother, didn’t twitch, didn’t move except to speak. Fire Lord Ozai is not like their father.

“It is in regard to Prince Zuko, my lord,” he said. Revulsion coiled in his chest over the formality of this. Revulsion hidden behind calm that was laced into a mask that showed nothing. Iroh prided himself on the ability to handle his emotions--it’s what had made him a good leader. It’s what made him able to handle Zuko’s wild emotions and his hotheadedness. A lack of emotions when emotions would be dangerous.

At one point, the revulsion had battled against envy and sorrow. The crown was supposed to go to him, the _Crowned_ Prince. And yet, all at once, Lu Ten had died in battle, their father had died, Princess Ursa had vanished, and Ozai was crowned as Fire Lord.

Envy had festered for a year before it had turned to something else--suspicion. Suspicion of _how exactly_ his younger brother had become Fire Lord. Princess Ursa had vanished and Princess Azula was crueler than ever. Prince Zuko, however, was shaken up.

That was when he learned to control his emotions so well in front of the new Fire Lord, in front of anybody who were absolutely loyal to him.

“Prince Zuko,” Fire Lord Ozai said slowly, as if he were just talking about the weather. The name, the moniker so familiar to Iroh, so easily came off of his brother’s tongue it made him want to scream.

“Prince Zuko is dead, Iroh. Commander Zhao has reported that and there will be an announcement tomorrow. The whole world will know within a week.”

Iroh closed his eyes, hiding the shock of the Fire Lord addressing him in such a familiar way and locking it away. It’s like facing Koh, when talking to the Fire Lord. If any emotions were shown, your life was taken away--except Koh was kinder when doing so.

“I do not think that’s true, Fire Lord. Prince Zuko is resilient, he knows how to survive in the worst conditions.” _For example,_ he thought, _having half his face burned off by his father._

Prince Zuko was strong, stronger than Fire Lord Ozai, stronger than Princess Azula, stronger than him. He had survived his younger sister who idolized her father and would do anything to do better; survived the death of Lu Ten followed by Princess Ursa vanishing followed by him leaving, the three people who cared for him the most; survived having his father burn half his face off and the infections that came after at the age of thirteen and banishing him directly after for a futile quest; survived the crew that were constantly close to mutining him but never did.

Prince Zuko could not be dead because he didn’t die. He didn’t give up and something as simple as Crescent Island collapsing could not kill him.

“My son has been dead for years, Prince Iroh. This revelation and your impossible care for him is nothing new.” Ozai’s tone was final, biting, daring for any contradictions to be voiced. The flames flared as he spoke, lighting the obsidian floors and making them shine in shades of reds and oranges.

Iroh simply smiled and imagined burning his brother where he sat in that _glorious_ throne. It was never a secret how Ozai treated his son, how much he reviled him, but for an outright statement such as this was surprising. The Fire Lord was not to show any faults outside of their immediate family and yet--

Yet Ozai constantly did because he had never taken the classes the Crowned Prince should have. Ozai was running the nation into the ground and there was nothing Iroh could do except find Prince Zuko now.

He knew nothing was showing on his face, nothing except a strained smile that fooled just about anyone.

He stayed where he was, waiting for the dismissal, still except for his breaths. If he showed anything that could even be considered remotely traitorous, the Fire Lord would have his head on a spike, an accident that would make his nephew’s punishment look tame. It would be called an accident and he couldn’t risk being called a traitor.

Not when Zuko was out there-- _not dead_ \--and possibly needing help.

He was the last person who would be willing to help him and he wasn’t going to give that up.

“You’re dismissed, Prince Iroh.”

He stood, the right speed, the right angle and bowed to the Fire Lord once more but before he walked out of the room, he spoke once more, “Even the dead have to return home sometime, Fire Lord.” He left before Ozai could do anything. He stood tall as he walked through the palace, head high and shoulders tense. Servants scurried out of the way, bowing as they went. Most of them he knew by name, most of the time he would stop and talk to them.

Most of the time they didn’t scurry and bow because Prince Iroh was the one who took after Fire Lord Azulon--he cared.

But at this moment, this was who he was before Lu Ten’s death. The smile that wasn’t kind or caring, the one where he did not want to speak to anybody or even look at them. This anger, the injustice of his brother, curled deep and around his Inner Fire, burning into him from all sides.

It burned at the back of his throat, kept his back straight and eyes blazing.

This was how he felt when he laid siege at the Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se for six-hundred days. How he felt during every battle before that before they moved onto the next one.

He was almost out of the palace when someone called out to him and he stopped. He knew that voice, he had commanded that voice before, begun to despise it whenever it taunted his nephew on his ship.

“General Iroh!” Commander Zhao called, and Iroh turned--out of the illusion of being polite and willing to speak to one of the Fire Lord’s commanders. He bowed to him, “May I speak with you for just a moment of your time?”

~`~`~`~`

Iroh ended up in an informal meeting room on Commander Zhao’s ship pouring tea for the both of them. He felt calmer already, between being away from the Fire Lord and the tea, but he couldn’t relax. His nephew was still lost, unable to come home, and now he had to deal with the man who put him there.

(He tried not to think about how it was _his_ plan that Zuko had followed and that was why he was missing.)

Once he sat, he smiled, enjoying how Zhao blinked. It was still forced, still slightly off-kilter than he usually felt, but he smiled. “What did you need to speak to me about, Commander?”

Zhao cleared his throat, and sat straighter, “I would like you to start leading a fleet up North. The Avatar needs a waterbending master and his best bet is up North.” Zhao paused and gestured to Iroh, “Who better to lead than the infamous Dragon of the West. I would meet you but my fleet and I will be directly after the Avatar.”

Iroh took a sip of the tea, stopping himself from grimacing. Tea was tea, but sometimes it was not made well. “And you have the authority to lead a fleet to attack the North? You have the power?”

Zhao grinned, tiger-shark like--all teeth. “The Fire Lord has graciously granted me both the authority and power, General Iroh.”

Iroh set down his teacup. His brother was never the brightest in his plans, or the most subtle. Attacking the North was just as dangerous as attacking Ba Sing Se--they had both been able to stay out of the war and they were both impenetrable. He wouldn’t partake in another hopeless mission if he could--Ba Sing Se, the Avatar, he wasn’t going to join.

But he just plastered on a smile and stood, “I will consider your gracious offer, Commander Zhao. But for now, I must be going. Those on the Huǒlóng are expecting me back soon.”

Zhao’s smile fell and he stood as well, but it didn’t stop the candles on the wall flickering with his annoyance or the poorly hidden scowl. “Yes, of course. I will await your hawk, then.”

Iroh nodded, “Don’t wait too long, or your opportunity will go to waste.”

~`~`~`~`

Lieutenant Jee didn’t exactly feel remorse over the missing--and possibly dead--prince. The kid was a brat, irresponsible, and didn’t know the first thing about respect. He constantly yelled at General Iroh or his crew, was impatient in his training even though he wasn’t consistent with his katas, and was far too obsessed with the Avatar.

He put the crew in danger over and over, in the South, with Commander Zhao, sailing them into _Fire Nation territory,_ but he still cared. He never let any of them die, made sure they recovered if they were ill, let them leave the crew if they needed.

And he was also a kid. He was a kid that had been searching for the Avatar for years when most had believed the Avatar was just a myth. The Avatar that hadn’t been seen in a hundred years.

He was a kid with an impossible mission and only the bottom of the barrel to help him.

Jee hadn’t had an easy life. He served under General Iroh before and during Ba Sing Se and survived, watched him lose his son and then his throne. Jee had been tasked with making sure Lu Ten _didn’t_ die and yet the kid had run off without any backup. He hadn’t been blamed but he was a disgraced soldier.

Later, after a year to rebuild his reputation, he was made a Lieutenant and led his group into Cardenia. He was the only one to survive and he was then nicknamed the “Unlucky Soldier”. Nobody wanted him until General Iroh approached him and asked a request of him, a payment. He didn’t blame Lee, but he hadn’t forgiven him either.

He accepted and he was made Lieutenant once more--just of the Huǒlóng with a bratty kid who never listened and was in charge of where they went.

Most of the crew were in the same position, beaten down so much that they wouldn’t have made it back up without General Iroh’s helping hand. Some people were new, came in from the ports who had heard of the ship where they weren’t judged for the wrongs they had made in the past, where they could start anew.

They had been sailing for three years and yet, none of the crew had died. And maybe that was thanks to the kid. He made some reckless calls but so had Jee and General Iroh and every single military official he had ever worked with because they had something worth fighting for.

As of such, he wasn’t remorseful the kid was lost--not dead, General Iroh kept saying. Whether it was denial or the truth, Jee wasn’t about to argue with him about it. He was more devastated when he lost his son, this time he was angry and determined--but he _was_ something else. He didn’t want a kid dead, not from his ship--it was still _his_ ship, no matter what the kid had said or any royal status on board. Not at all.

And so, when General Iroh came back wearing his _I-walked-away-before-I-murdered-someone_ smile instead of his usual _I’m-just-a-harmless-old-man-would-you-like-some-tea-and-play-a-game-of-Pai-Sho?_ one, Jee straightened.

General Iroh had stated, with all too much determination that was reminiscent of his old days, the determination that had been passed down to his nephew, that they were going to be looking for Prince Zuko, whether dead or not because “all kids should return home at some point, dead or not.”

If the kid was found alive, they would continue the search for the Avatar, complete the hopeless mission that started to gain some sheen to it, and have the kid return home.

If the kid was found dead, they would bring the body back into the Fire Nation, have it burned and the ashes laid at rest with the rest of his family.

He wasn’t surprised when the rest of the crew groaned that evening when Agni just barely touched the horizon when he let them know General Iroh’s decision. They may have just been as unwanted, but they wanted to return to family and friends, make sure they were just as alive and living.

He wasn’t surprised when they still went to bed early to ready themselves for the next morning and more trips around the world to search for the kid. Because the Prince was just a kid and, despite the lack of respect, he was still a part of the crew and they hadn’t lost anybody yet.

What did surprise him was when he walked down the deck that night, heading to General Iroh to report that everything would be ready in the morning, he spotted one of his crew members was meeting with Commander Zhao.

He was a newer recruit, dark stubbly hair and eyes that faint yellow of a firebender--but not the royal gold--and so young. Older than the kid young, but still young. They had picked him up at a port recently and he attempted to enter every conversation he could. Bright eyed and cheery.

And yet, when he was talking with Commander Zhao, it was with more ease and respect than he had been talking to any of them.

And suddenly, Jee didn’t think everybody cared about their crew anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iroh is...Iroh is the best character in ATLA, in my opinion. And yet, no matter how much I wish, I could not be him. I could never be him and so his character is so off and I apologise for that but I still love him.  
> We only ever see his words and his actions and not his inner thoughts or what drives them and I kinda played around with it...as all authors should, of course.  
> Also, what's a fanfic without a little manipulation of the characters, their moods, and canon in general :D  
> Also, I only meant to write Iroh's part but Lieutenant Jee kinda jumped me and wrote himself in and, apparently, he's a good character!  
> ...I use the word also and and a lot...whoops.  
> Anyway! I have a tumblr! Not just for this, but for ATLA in general but I am thinking, after each chapter, I could post the outline for the chapters. They have funnier anecdotes than the characters let themselves be at times. If y'all wanna follow, I won't post too much but it would be cool. It's more to keep my own thoughts in order and post little things that never ended up in the actual fic... And other bigger projects later on... And maybe just very self-indulgent but everybody deserves something self-indulgent every now and then. It's saitslirena - that's what the name is.  
> Originally, I tried Silent Siren, SiSiren, and then I just combined ATLA and SiSiren and it turned out cool.  
> Again, I appreciate your comments and kudos so much. Seriously, I grin maniacally every time I think about them and you guys are just the absolute best!  
> I'll see y'all Thursday/Friday ish!  
> I hope you're well! :3


	6. Talks and Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha...this isn't Thursday is it...?  
> Well, yesterday I went tubing with a friend and their family and my neck may have gotten thrown around to the point where it was--and still is--sore and I had the largest headache. Really, I got about half of this chapter done yesterday, /on/ Thursday, and had to complete it today.  
> So I apologise for that.  
> Enjoy!

The first time he was conscious and flying, Zuko hid in the middle of the saddle and stared straight ahead. It was terrifying how high up they were, over the _fucking ocean_ and the mountains of the Earth Kingdom, and they didn’t _fly safely_. Seriously, the Avatar had them flying at all certain angles and _laughed_ \--Zuko wasn’t sure if he was just a kid who didn’t know better, or was insane.

Either way, humans weren’t meant to fly--or at least, the Fire Nation wasn’t supposed to fly, he had proof that airbenders could fly right in front of him.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

It didn’t help that he had been on water for the past three years and changing to another mode of transportation entirely made him dizzy. It was like he had to lose his sea legs and gain a pair of air legs, and everytime they landed, he stumbled. It was embarrassing, and the Avatar and his Water Tribe brats could never stifle their snickers before Zuko regained his footing.

It also wasn’t fun to slide down the bison--the fur ran up his shirt and armor _and_ the cloak he wore when it got too cold into the night, and it _itched_ , if he didn’t brush it off quickly enough. He wouldn’t allow anyone to help, either, just growled and went to find a tree to hide behind and scratch himself against.

They were half-way into the _getting-away-from-pirates_ flight that Sokka turned to him from the side of the saddle--not so far that he’d fall off, but far enough that he leaned over the edge--and said, “The view is nice, you should come and see it!” Zuko didn’t move, and continued to stare forward but he shook his head.

He had just settled back into the terrifying, cold panic that seeped into his lungs as he thought about jumping to get away from the Avatar or--even worse--falling because he was too close to the edge and nobody would bother to save him, no matter how nice they acted, it would be one less problem for them, after all, when Sokka called back to him again.

“What are you? Moosechicken?”

Zuko had a penchant for not thinking about his actions--he didn’t plan, he didn’t think, he just acted on instincts and fought his way through. If something felt wrong, he’d act; if something _went_ wrong, it’s because he planned for something and he acted on that plan.

He always took into account for people’s safety--sometimes his, most of the time his crew’s. He had Uncle to worry about him for him, even if it was unnecessary.

But if he was called out on cowardice that he didn’t have, not even Uncle could stop him, not the self-preservation instincts that barely glowed whenever he thought of doing something that most would be considered stupid, not anybody telling him it was a _bad idea_ , because he didn’t think of ideas, he just acted.

So it was not a surprise that he ended up sitting next to Sokka, his heart thumping as he imagined that it would only take for him to lean forward-- _he would survive, he would have to_ \--or someone from behind to push. All it would take was a brief moment of relaxation around the enemy or one strong gust of wind or even one wrong turn of the insane-bison and the airbender.

But as he stared at the barely-Agni-caressed horizon, he relaxed. The colours were fiery, reds and purples and oranges that mixed together like the breath of the dragons Uncle used to tell him stories about. As they grazed the top of trees, looking for places to land for the night, he could spot so many kinds of animals--puffindoves, snakesquirrels, ravenmonkeys, zebraeagles--that looked at them as they passed and ran. The trees were a peaceful green that reminded him of the soft greens Uncle occasionally bought, and the few water sources they passed were clear, like the turtleduck ponds at the palace.

Weirdly enough, it reminded him of the ocean, sailing with Uncle and his crew, and the peace that they had found for the entirety of Wùzĭ of his first year in his banishment. The air wasn’t blazing with camaraderie during most of Agni’s days, but it eased and he felt comfortable with most of them by the end of that Wùzĭ. Nobody attempted to attack them or harass them, it was smooth sailing unless they stopped at a port, and even then it was completely harmless, peaceful.

Uncle had stopped him from beginning his search for the Avatar until after his burn had healed-- _more stress will make the injury worse, Prince Zuko_ \--and after many times of Agni rising and setting, he agreed. The wound itched constantly and it burned anytime someone mentioned his father or if he saw fire, and the infections were damn impossible to keep away.

And yet despite the still-healing wound, it was the easiest and most peaceful time on the Huǒlóng.

They landed not too long afterward in a clearing that could hardly fit the bison and would fit the four of them if they huddled way too close for Zuko’s liking, but the others were already down and setting up bed rolls before he could protest--not that he could, what with being a prisoner.

He was still sitting on the bison when it laid down and Zuko was forcibly bumped off, fur riding up his shirt and his hands going uncomfortably, painfully, high as they were forced to move. When he landed, he dropped to his knees and cursed under his breath. His arms hurt after being stretched like that and they had ended up digging into his armour as well and-- _it hurt_.

A shadow fell on him and he stood quickly--he doesn’t bow, won’t bow to another when he’s hurt--and is towering over the Avatar--Aang.

It’s harder to not call them by their names directly to their faces, even if their names only briefly flash across his mind.

“Are you okay?” His voice was innocent, soft in the way that the war hardly left anybody, as if the Avatar had witnessed none of the cruelty the war had done--not all the death and destruction that had razed between all the nations.

And no matter what he heard aboard the Huǒlóng, no matter how angry the water brat got, no matter if the Koh-cursed logical, kind part of him yelled at him, the war was not the Fire Nation’s fault. They attempted to help and the others attacked them for no reason.

No matter what he heard, it had to be the truth, it _had_ to be.

He grit his teeth even as his arms ached, “I’m _fine_.”

“Are you sure?”

Zuko closed his eyes, counted like Uncle said to whenever he got irrationally angry. He counted until he felt somewhat calm. He still couldn’t control the glare that automatically slid onto his features once he opened his eyes to see the genuine, amicable expression on the Avatar.

“I’m fine, Aang,” he said, and he could see the boy light up when he used his real name. He opened his mouth again but Zuko stopped him, “I’m just uncomfortable with the cuffs.”

His face fell and Zuko’s chest panged until it was squashed in the same corner as the rest of his feelings that felt akin to regret and remorse and guilt and it felt easier to breathe once more.

“I’m sorry, Zuko. I tried to take them off, I really did, but my airbending did nothing to them and I’m sorry,” Aang explained, rushing his words in an apology that was earnest enough that he believed his words.

And Zuko was suddenly deprived of air, the same emotions when Sokka admitted that saving him was a win became known again. Feelings that warmed him from the inside and made his Inner Fire flare with hope and safety, and he _hated_ it. He wasn't supposed to trust these people, no matter what his Inner Fire desired--he was in charge of himself, not his Inner Fire.

(Uncle would be furious if he heard his thoughts--their Inner Fire was sacred, a gift from Agni himself. If it guided him one place, he was supposed to follow it.)

(He had never been good with following others anyway.)

Zuko felt sick. In a good way, but sick nonetheless. How could the Avatar, the boy, _Aang_ , try to release him when he was so perfectly tied up with a bow--he couldn't firebend, he couldn't chase them, he couldn't hurt anyone--and yet he tried to open the gift.

"Why?" he asked. Because he felt small, so hopeful for something impossible he couldn't grasp, so safe for the same reasons, _cared for_ in a way where only three others had cared for him before and they all left in some way.

Aang looked confused as he tilted his head and Zuko had to clarify.

"Why did you try to take them off?" His voice broke off and he finished the sentence in a harsh whisper. He wished he could feel anger at this, but these people had thrown surprise after surprise at him when they first saved him from an honourless death by the Fire Lord, trusting him not to run away, and how they had tried to take off the cuffs.

Only a handful of people had offered the same kind surprise and he didn't know exactly what to do. It almost felt like he wanted to cry, but even if his voice cracked, even if these emotions burned him from the inside for refusing to listen to his Inner Fire, he wouldn't cry. The last time he cried, it hurt as salt got into his wound and burned.

Aang's face slipped into something soft and understanding and Zuko wasn't even going to react to that, he wouldn't, no matter how confused and angry and soft it made him.

"Nobody deserves to have their bending forcibly taken away, it's--it's barbaric! We wouldn't leave you in those cuffs just because you're our enemy, we'd have found a different way to keep you prisoner, but we'd never keep your bending locked away."

Zuko breathed in, deeply, a single breath that calmed him down--at least outwardly. Inside, it just stifled the emotions he felt and pushed them away until he could deal with them later.

And then he did something he didn't think he would do twice to his captors--not that he ever thought he would be captured--he thanked them.

He had thanked them once already, for saving his life, for not leaving him to be executed by the hands of the Fire Lord. And that had to be the best thing anybody had done for him in a while…

(Uncle only took care of him, guided him, but had never protected him against his father.)

"Thank you," he whispered, and he felt deflated, burnt out, and he didn't even have the energy to glare.

Aang smiled, a stark contrast to how Zuko felt and the previous mood, "No problem! Come join us!"

Zuko followed, numb, until he was just a few feet away, and then he sat. He was an outlier to their group and even if they were nice to him, he wasn’t going to make an effort to get to know them, just professional, distant, clinical kindness so they wouldn’t kill him.

(That small part of him that argued it wasn’t clinical kindness to thank them, was pushed away with the rest of those similar feelings.)

~`~`~`~`

Zuko wasn’t eating--everybody could gather that--but it was also annoyingly worrisome. He refused the food Katara made and, yeah, his sister wasn’t that good of a cook, but it was still food and the Prince hadn’t even touched it. And it couldn’t have been because of Katara’s food because the few times they brought out the non-perishables they had bought or scavenged, he still refused to accept the food.

Except Sokka could see the lingering looks and the glares that is sent towards the food--it’s the same hunger that he looked at the food in the South when he gave some of his portion to Katara or Gran-gran or the others in the village when the kids came up to him and bothered him for more food. He couldn’t blame them, they rarely had enough for everybody to fill themselves and kids seemed to always be hungry.

Zuko was hungry and he wasn’t eating--or at least, he wasn’t eating where and when they couldn’t see him because he hadn’t collapsed yet. It had been six rises of Tui and Zuko hadn’t caved into eating. He hadn’t even caved into sleeping, or at least, not much. He was the last one awake and he was the first one up. Bags marked underneath his eyes and he stumbled frequently when they set up camp or took it down or when he watched Katara teach Aang from the scroll--which was strange because she hadn’t bothered to try any of the waterbending stances from it herself, just taught Aang--and Spirits forbid anyone mention his lack of sleep or lack of food.

They thought that being hunted was bad, keeping him as a prisoner who tried to be polite but ended up glaring at them was worse. It wasn’t the lack of hunger that made Zuko refuse food, look miserable, and then deny it, it was the pride that glinted in his eyes before he refused the food.

Because he had to be fed. Those cuffs wouldn’t allow him to do anything by himself, least of all feed himself, and none of them had been prepared for a prince who was too proud to ask for help and refused even the slightest possibility of help.

It was with great surprise when, after supper and Tui had risen, Zuko approached Sokka with a glare and a ribbon sitting on his head that Sokka had noticed Momo had been carrying around. Zuko was shivering and looked as if he were moments before passing out, but glared at him and stood his ground.

Sokka stared at the firebender, their prisoner, someone part of their team, until Zuko growled and sat in front of him, his back towards him and shoulders hunched.

“Could you put my hair into a phoenixtail again?” His words were kind but his tone was uncomfortable, full of those rotten emotions that ate away at someone.

Sokka plucked the ribbon from his head and held it up, glancing at Katara and Aang who were smothering their snickers as they set up the four bed rolls, Zuko’s always further away from the rest of them.

He was confused-- _what_ was a phoenixtail and why did Zuko assume he knew how to put his hair in one?

“Phoenixtail?”

Though he was facing the opposite way, Sokka could still feel Zuko’s scowl, “ _Yes_ , a phoenixtail. How your hair is now, how my hair was before.”

Sokka stared at the back of Zuko’s head that was clear of bandages and that was beginning to grow fuzzy, but the strange patch was growing longer. It was strange to see his hair down, but nobody had bothered to mention it, too tired from riding on Appa all day. That and Zuko was rather hard to start a civil conversation with in general--he was either too harsh, proud, and growly or too earnest with wide eyes that didn’t know how to respond to something they did.

Sokka played with the ribbon between his hands, gesturing vaguely to his own head as he spoke, “ _This_ is a wolftail, not a phoenixtail.”

This time, Zuko turned around to glare at him, “No it’s not, it’s a phoenixtail--albeit, a poorly done one.”

He laughed--he didn’t mean to, but it was out of surprise, “It is _not_.”

He looked confused, but his glare was still in place saying things Sokka didn’t believe could be conveyed into words.

“It’s _not_!”

“It is.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“A wolftail is how the men in the Water Tribe wear their hair--or at least, it’s a very popular style! You can’t just claim it’s some weird phoenixtail!”

The scowl that had previously been on Zuko’s face had been added to with a small lilt of his lips and Sokka smiled--it counted as a win when the Prince hardly smiled. He laughed, again and Zuko startled before schooling his features and facing forward again.

“Just put it up.”

Sokka does so, with quick, practiced hands that have spent countless hours putting his own hair up, but the clumsiness that comes with putting somebody else’s hair up. Once he’s done he smiles. It’s rough and _not_ in the same style the Prince had attacked them with so long ago, but it works.

Zuko turns back to face him almost immediately, losing the tension in his shoulders and his face still permanently glued in the scowl, but softer. “It’s not tight enough.”

Sokka shakes his head and tried not to feel too insulted, “Well, I’m _sorry_ , your highness, I can’t get it as tight as your servants. I’ve never had to do someone else’s hair, so, deal with it.”

Zuko glares before he nods. Now that his hair is up, it’s all too clear the shadows that puncture and bring out his eyes. There was clear hesitance in them before his shoulders grew tense one more and the words he forced out were as fine as snow-covered gravel.

“Could you also shave the fuzz?”

Sokka blinked once more before grinning, all insults gone and glad for the small trust between them. “Yeah, course I can! I do my own hair after all!” he says, patting the sides of his own head.

Zuko stayed quiet as he turned around and he stayed terrifying still, as if he wasn’t human at all and was just one of those fancy statues they’d see around villages. Sokka left and quickly returned with his boomerang, the edges sharp and practical for hunting or shaving!

Again, his hands were still with practice but less clumsy because even if he were still the enemy--which it was getting harder to consider him--he wouldn’t cut someone if they were weaponless or unable to fight.

It was quiet and he knew Aang and Katara were watching them from their own bed rolls, ready to turn in for the night, and he needed to fill the silence with _something_ , so he started talking.

“You know, this look on you, the diamond patch with the wolftail--sorry, phoenixtail--and the rest of it shaved, it’s not a good look for you. Why’d you even style it this way? Is it some kind of Fire Nation style? If so, someone should really change it because it doesn’t look nice at all.” He was just talking for talking’s sake, to distract himself from whose head he was shaving and the inhuman stillness that he startled when Zuko spoke back to him.

“No.”

Sokka’s hands stilled, “Huh?”

“It’s not a Fire Nation style, it’s a sign of honour,” Zuko explained. His voice was softer than normal, but not in the normal sense. It was still gravelly, still in that puberty phase both of them seemed to be stuck in, but it was as if he weren’t talking to any of them. It was laced and interwoven with exhaustion that was worrying, but they had learned not to ask at this point.

“What does it mean?” he asked, because now he had to know, now that he was speaking, he had to know. He dropped hints about his life casually, when he sounded like this, about being stuck on sea with his uncle and those who didn’t seem to like him, about a younger sister who was a prodigy, about his own life growing up.

Nothing about his banishment, nothing about the honour he had spouted about capturing the Avatar. It was enough to answer their questions but not enough about his life.

“It’s--” Sokka could hear the hesitation in his voice, the unsurety of how to proceed, “--this style is a mark of someone who has been banished. Not many are banished--most don’t survive--so most don’t even know the significance of this style. Uncle was the one who had to teach me how I had to wear my hair in once I woke up.”

Sokka belatedly remembered he was supposed to be shaving his head and continued, “Sooooo, what do you mean by woke up?”

Zuko went silent and tension filled the air. If Sokka wasn’t holding a sharp object to his head, he was sure he’d have walked away--at least, as far as he could whilst staying in their sights.

Sokka stayed silent as he finished and when he was done brushing the stubble off his head and putting down his boomerang, Zuko still sat in front of him. He didn’t turn around but he had relaxed to a certain degree. He could see the hesitation lined in his shoulders and he didn’t push.

If Zuko wanted to say anything, they weren’t going to push, it was the fastest way to get him to clam up and glare at them until they went away. A question here, a question there, and eventually, he answered them. But being pressured to answer a question was when he stormed off.

It was strange, how willingly he worked with them, but none of them were going to comment on it.

“I woke up banished on the Huǒlóng. My father didn’t even let me know that I was banished to my face, he just wrote a decree and handed it to Uncle. It was,” Zuko shook his head and stood up, walking to the opposite side of the camp and lay down.

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I meant to get to Jet in this chapter...that didn't happen. Like, half of this outline was for Jet and then Aang talked and Zuko had feelings and then Sokka just started talking and it didn't stop and these characters need to start following a certain path that I outline for them before they derail this entire story--  
> I mean, that's going to happen anyway, but at least this way it'll be an accident.  
> Also, they're just trying to make Zuko feel welcome at this point because he /has/ been helpful and he hasn't been /too/ antagonistic. Also, they're just nice people and they all need hugs.  
> Anyway! Zuko talks! I mean, hardly, and we skipped out on a week of getting to know them, but there's tidbits in there.  
> Again, I enjoy every single comment and kudos and all of you guys! Like, it's brilliant! You all get virtual hugs!  
> I hope you're doing well and I'll see you on Sunday (hopefully)! :3  
> Ooooh! Question! What would you guys be if you were in ATLA? Water, earth, fire, or air? Personally, I'd be part of the Earth Kingdom.


	7. Jet? Creepy - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Jet :D D:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I meant to get the rest of Jet in this chapter but...if I did that, he would have ended up dead because I forgot how much I hated the guy. Yes, he's interesting, yes, he's...attractive...ish, yes, he kinda redeems himself, but I have never liked him because he just creeps me out.  
> And that creepiness got portrayed on my characters and if I didn't stop here and calmed, Zuko would have taken things into his own hand.  
> I DO like what shall happen in the next chapter, the next part that SHOULD (should, please, I'm begging myself, will) be the last part of Jet. I wasn't even writing him for long because Katara and Zuko took up most of this chapter. What the heck guys?  
> Anyways, enjoy! :3

Zuko woke with the uncomfortable realisation that he didn’t remember falling asleep, or at least, didn’t realise he fell asleep. He could feel Agni beginning to crest the horizon, but it was still dark with the trees blocking his view and he  _ wanted _ to sleep more but he knew that wasn’t going to happen; he wasn’t supposed to fall asleep in the first place, not when his captors-- _ not captors-- _ were right by his side. He couldn’t trust them, not when he was so vulnerable.

But they did. They slept every time Tui rose without any worry. They slept when he was so close.

And he did.

On some level, he trusted them. He trusted Sokka to touch his hair, to shave it with a sharp object. He trusted the enemy not to hurt him with his back turned. He trusted them to not land somewhere unsafe, to not leave him when they left, to not hurt him. He trusted them with information he didn’t know he was ready to share.

It was strange, convoluted, in a way he couldn’t perceive at the moment, that he didn’t  _ want _ to think about. They didn’t think it was strange or weird or harmful to trust their prisoner, their enemy, the  _ Prince of the Fire Nation _ , they just did so. And it put into perspective just how innocent, how small these people were. They were fighting to take down his father and they were  _ children _ \--two who didn’t seem to have hit puberty yet and one who was the same age as he. Children who fought and argued with one another, who had so much hope for the world.

Children who thought they were doing something right when it was wrong, when it could get them killed.

Zuko’s head ached with sleep that had taken hold of him after refusing it for so long, most of it focused around his eyes, and all he wished to do was sleep until Tui had risen and fallen once more, but now that he was awake, that wasn’t going to happen.

His stomach growled, rumbled,  _ ached _ like the rest of him and something small, fuzzy-- _ Momo _ . He had taken to sleeping curled against Zuko; maybe it was because of his natural heat, maybe not, but it wasn’t...bad--shifted and growled back.

He hadn’t been  _ ignoring _ the food placed in front of him. On the contrary, he refused and stared at it, the battle between his pride and his hunger always winning with the former forcing the latter into submission, and it was hurting him.

Their Inner Fire uses the energy and food they consumed to fuel itself. If a firebender refused to eat, their Inner Fire eventually began to eat at them, the excess energy they had stored away. 

It’s why, even after he was burnt and felt far too ill to eat, Uncle still forced him to eat with scolding.

It’s why he was still eating, when everybody went to sleep and he was the last one awake. It’s why he tolerated Aang’s pet sleeping against him because Momo kept getting nuts and berries Zuko could eat easily. It wasn’t enough, but it kept his Inner Fire from eating him completely.

(Uncle would be so mad that he wasn’t eating right. Mad, disappointed, and worried.)

He finally sat up, Momo sliding onto his legs with a growl and a one-eyed glare before settling down again. Animals of all sorts had always liked him--the turtleducks back home, the pet squirrelmoose he had attempted to keep as a pet before his father discovered it (they had something that looked vaguely like it at dinner that night. He couldn’t eat for a while), Momo, and, it seemed, Appa as well.

He eyed the camp, the others that were sleeping, and wondered if they had talked after he had fallen asleep or if he was the last to fall asleep. He really didn’t know how to feel if he was the first to fall asleep, if they had spoken about last night.

He could feel the tension that had erupted after he had walked away, could feel it mount whilst he was speaking about his banishment. The tension was filled with uncomfortableness, an anger that made no sense, and, strangely enough, an anticipation that filled him with unease. He had ran as far as he could, as far as he was allowed--Sokka  _ had _ stated, ordered, for him to stay in his sight--and bid them a good night, hopefully to ease the tension, wishfully hoping to get rid of it, but it hadn’t. Instead, it had grown and, after a moment of silence, he had opened his eyes to feeling Agni rising.

His stomach complained again, the ache growing and he realised he hadn’t eaten anything last night and  _ that _ was probably why his body ached with more fire today than the others.

Momo, again, glared at him before stretching and flying off his lap. He could feel his lips turn up and wondered, briefly, what it was like to fly like that, without the help of anything else, by being able to catch himself if he fell.

Free, probably. It would probably feel free.

“Oh, you’re awake,” came a voice to his right, and he fought a flinch as he looked over. It was Katara, sitting up within her bed roll. “I expected you to sleep longer ‘cause you don’t seem to be getting as much sleep lately, but you  _ have _ been getting up early.”

It was awkward, as he watched her move around to begin breakfast because  _ he thought they knew _ . It would be weird if he  _ didn’t  _ get up early and they thought it was weird he  _ did. _

“Firebenders rise with Agni. We all get up early,” he explained, and he enjoyed her look of surprise.

“Really? That’s interesting,” she paused in her adding the rice they had gotten to the pot. He ignored the ache as it increased at the sight of food--he would survive until the night.

“Do you think waterbenders do the same except with Tui? I always feel more alive at night.”

Surprise hit him, taking over the hunger and the pain. She didn’t know? Katara, Aang’s waterbending teacher, did not know about her connection with the Moon Spirit. A firebender’s first lesson was about their connection with Agni, the Sun Spirit, so were waterbenders not taught the same?

“They do. Waterbenders have the same connection to the Moon Spirit as firebenders have to the Sun Spirit.” Katara smiled and Zuko almost,  _ almost _ , smiled back. He was at least not scowling. “Were you taught nothing from your elders?” he asked, trying to keep his tone respectful. She hadn’t known about bending through sweat, she hadn’t been able to do simple waterbending techniques, she hadn’t known about her connection to Tui, and she kept sacrificing her own practice to teach Aang.

It’s like she knew nothing.

Her smile became a frown and a glare at nothing, her stirring of the rice becoming more forced, “No. I’m the last Southern Tribe waterbender so all I know is self-taught. It’s part of the reason why I stole the scroll.”

Zuko wants to ask. He wants to know why she’s the last waterbender of her tribe, why there aren’t more, what happened to the rest. He wants to know why she looks upset, but he doesn’t ask. They didn’t pry, he had noticed, about his sullen moods or the reasons why he looked upset, they just let him be until he talked.

(This, also, wasn’t bad.)

The traitorous part that was becoming harder and harder to stamp down spoke through him, “I can help.”

Katara’s anger shifted into him as her face shaped itself into surprise. He didn’t mean to say that, he could barely  _ firebend _ and the little he knew about waterbending--a firebenders opposite--was what Uncle had taught him. “How? You’re a firebender.”

Zuko nodded, his shoulders slumped because now he couldn’t go back, not with the hopeful gleam in her eyes. It was the same gleam Azula had when they were younger and their family was together. “Uncle studied the styles of the other benders and incorporated them into his bending--he taught them to me. I couldn’t do that  _ now _ , I can when I’m not cuffed,”  _ if _ I can be uncuffed,  _ if _ they found Zhao,  _ if _ they found the right key. It rested on a bunch of ifs. “Now I could correct your stances so it should flow better.”

He didn’t even think about escaping now, when he thought about getting out of his cuffs.

(And this was too nice to be clinically nice. He should have expected this, he was never good at plans or anything, really.)

“Thank you!” she yelled, and if she wasn’t cooking he was sure she would have hugged him. It woke the others up, shooting up and ready to attack and Zuko never felt more at ease since before he was banished.

It was baffling, but he trusted them when he was vulnerable and they seemed to trust him. 

~`~`~`~`

Aang was worried. There were small things about Zuko’s words that stuck to him, that clung to him like leopardticks, and sent him whirling into worry. He always worried but tried to stay on the good side, the happy side of things, because life was better that way.

But it was  _ wrong _ to hear about Zuko being banished, of his father able to kill him, of him not eating or sleeping. Kuzon had said once that a firebender’s Inner Fire depended on what they ate, burned them if they didn’t, but Zuko hadn’t gotten any burns yet and he claimed to be fine.

Aang didn’t believe him, but Katara had pulled him aside and told him that he shouldn’t ask, that Zuko would open up with time, so Aang let him be most of the time.

He was worried for Zuko and now he was worried for Momo.

He hadn’t seen him all morning and it made him jittery as he bounced from place-to-place. “Where’s Momo?

“Aang, stop worrying, he probably just went to go get food,” Sokka said, looking bored and Aang wished he wouldn’t. The sun was already directly above them and Momo still hadn’t returned. He foraged for food, but he always returned soon.

A screech pierced the air that had Sokka and Katara hurrying to their feet and Zuko immediately looking alert, but he hurried towards the noise because that was a flying  _ lemur _ noise--that was a noise from Momo.

~`~`~`~`

Momo had been captured in a Fire Nation trap and now they had to leave. It was melancholic--the forest was beautiful and Aang wanted to stay at least another night. He liked to travel, but this place was just so nice.

They packed up their stuff quickly and Aang was about to jump on Appa before Sokka tugged on his arm, “Uh-uh, nope. We’re not flying this time.”

Confusion took over, “What? Why?” Flying was  what they  _ did _ . It’s where he was in his element--he  _ and _ Appa! How could Sokka just say they couldn’t fly?

“Aang, Appa’s too noticeable.”

He looked over to Katara, pleading because flying was important, it freed him, freed Appa and it was so much easier to fly. It’s who he was made to be.

Katara must have seen his look because she nodded, “Appa’s not noticeable.”

He almost yelped in excitement because Sokka’s shoulders slumped and that meant they could fly--they could fly and be away from the Fire Nation encampment quickly.

“Actually,” Zuko said as he leaned against a tree, he looked exhausted, “Appa is noticeable. It’s how I tracked you guys most of the time, the other was rumours. We should wait until we’re away from the Fire Nation camp.”

Sokka pointed a finger at Zuko--whose shoulders tensed--and grinned, “See! He gets it! Besides, my instincts tell me we should play it safe and walk.”

Katara leaned in towards Sokka and Aang did too--they were about to bicker and their bickering was always funny. It brought joy, a kind of hope to him that the war may have destroyed a lot of things but it didn’t destroy their relationship.

“Who made you boss?”

“I’m not the boss, I’m the leader.”

“You’re the leader? But your voice still cracks!”

Sokka’s voice cracked and Aang met Zuko’s eyes across the way, he smiled and Zuko--Zuko definitely looked amused. “I’m the oldest, and I’m a warrior, so I’m the leader!” 

Zuko smirked now, not something mean but playful, “Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m the oldest, so shouldn’t that make  _ me _ the leader?” Aang grins, hopping up onto one of Appa’s horns because--he needed to move. He doesn’t have a reason, he just needed to move, he always needed to move. Maybe it was a side effect from being frozen in ice for a hundred years.

Sokka swings toward Zuko and points dramatically, “What? No! I’m the oldest!”

Katara pointed at both of them before they could start arguing between themselves, “Why do boys always think someone has to be the leader?’

They ended up following Sokka’s idea and he hated it.

~`~`~`~`

They had stumbled in a Fire Nation camp and, even though Zuko had decided he maybe-kinda-sorta trusted them that morning, that did not mean he was willing to fight against his people. He would protect himself as well as he could underneath the cloak Sokka forced on him during the walk (“In case we run into the Fire Nation camp,” he had said.) and without his firebending or his dao and with basically no sleep or food and--

This wasn’t going to end well for him if he couldn’t protect himself, if the others couldn’t protect themselves and he would be captured-- _ they _ would be captured. Sokka and Katara would be killed, Aang would be kept alive so he couldn’t reincarnate and he--

His life would have been spared only to be ended so soon afterwards.

The soldier who mocked Sokka is knocked out, a rock landing quietly compared to his body and then it’s chaos.

Kids--some younger than Aang and  _ they shouldn’t be apart of this _ \--are attacking the Fire Nation soldiers and winning. Sokka, Katara, and Aang work well to help, but the kids, lead by someone about his and Sokka’s age and looking meaner than the Fire Nation soldiers combined, are the ones who take most of them down.

And Zuko--he was a coward, a vulnerable coward who stood in the corner and was unable to help because he was cuffed and  _ those are his people _ , even if he wasn’t a prince anymore.

Was he a bad person if he refused to help his own people? If he refused to save these soldiers who fought so valiantly? It was an ambush and his people did nothing wrong.

(They were willing to attack four kids who accidentally wandered into their camp--is that not considered wrong?)

The fight was over as soon as it began and Zuko cautiously, guiltily--though he refused to acknowledge that emotion--approached the gushing Aang and Katara.

“You just took out a whole army almost single-handed,” Aang whispered, and Zuko almost scoffed. That wasn’t an army and, if it was, this guy--this guy who so effortlessly attacked and, almost, killed his men without a thought or care--wouldn’t have been able to do so. The group of kids helped,  _ they _ helped, he did not.

Sokka echoed his thoughts and he was glared at.

“My name is Jet, and these are my Freedom Fighters--Sneers, Longshot, Smellerbee, The Duke, and Pipsqueak.”

Sneers, The Duke, Smellerbee? Those couldn’t be real names, they weren’t names at all, and they were  _ children _ . Who would let young children fight?

(He knew who, but this was not General Bujing, and these kids were  _ not _ the forty-first division.)

Katara smiled at Jet, “Thanks for saving us Jet. We’re lucky you were there.”

“I should be thanking you. We were waiting to ambush those soldiers all morning, we just needed the right distraction, and then you guys stumbled in.”

Katara rolled her eyes and eyed Sokka and Zuko’s old instincts of peeved little sisters eyeing someone like a piece of meat had him almost reeling--but this was Katara, not Sokka, no matter how much she almost looked like her. “We were relying on instincts.”

Jet seemed to follow her eyes and smirked at Sokka, “You’ll get yourself killed doing that.”

He--he didn’t like Jet. He was tense and that along with his lack of food and lack of rest was dangerous. Pride be damned, he was going to eat tonight, even if he had to be fed. He was going to eat and sleep because being more vulnerable in front of an enemy he didn’t trust was dangerous, and being cuffed was enough. He’d rather be alive than dead.

Sokka sidled up next to him and mumbled under his breath, “You like him?”

Zuko glared back at him, not that he could see without facing him and with his cloak covering his face, and hissed back, “No.” Of course he didn’t, he was too flippant about taking out a camp of Fire Nation soldiers, his smile was more of a smirk, and he was cozying up to Aang and Katara easily. 

It reminded him of Azula.

He laughed and Zuko almost startled to stare at him, “Good, I don’t either. Instincts.”

Aang ran up to them, excited and with a smile that held as much joy as possible. “We’re gonna go see their hideout! Come on!”

~`~`~`~`

Sokka did not like Jet and his “Freedom Fighters” and he was so glad Zuko shared his support. They walked side by side, silent and at the back of the group, whilst Aang and his sister chatted to Jet. He could tell Jet was annoyed, so why invite them to stay? 

They stopped in the middle of the clearing and Sokka’s hands immediately drifted to his boomerang because  _ they were in the middle of nowhere. _ It was a hideout, sure, but what hideout was invisible?

“We’re here.”

His hand gripped his trusty boomerang--if they attacked he would be ready.

Zuko looked at him, shook his head and asked, with a voice their group had learned was filled with tension and distrust, “Where?”

Jet looked back glaring before startling. He stared at Zuko for a long while and, if he wasn’t wearing a cloak that covered a good majority of his face, he’d have thought Jet had recognised him. Instead, he smirked, “Up.”

He held out a hand to Katara--who  _ blushed _ , and why did his sister think Jet would be a good idea to crush on?--who took it. They flew up and the leaves that they left behind twirled onto them. 

Sokka looked to Aang, a plea in his eyes, to not follow--or actually,  _ to _ follow and get his sister and let them leave, they can even take Appa--but Aang wasn’t looking at him. He was smiling and already leaping up into the trees with barely a care.

And he sighed, because once again his sister and Aang had gotten them caught up in trouble and, once this turned sour, he would have to help them.

He looked to Zuko and he could feel his glare, “We’re not actually going up there, are we?” 

“Of course we are, because the kids are going to be in trouble if we don’t.” He held out an arm, an arm he would have to curl around Zuko’s waist so nobody got hurt and he really hoped he was strong enough because dropping his prisoner, the Prince of the Fire Nation (his new...friend, possibly?), was a bad idea. 

Zuko hesitated and Sokka smiled, “Come on, I don’t bite.” When Zuko walked into his arm and allowed it to curl around him, Sokka counted it as a success, more so than the night before--which they would need to talk about once this ended. And Katara and Aang’s penchant to just run towards trouble--because it was more of a bodily touch, almost like a hug.

“Shall we?” he said, and, before he got an answer, he pulled on a rope, shooting through the leaves and branches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write Aang and, I imagine he, as young as he is, probably worries all the time. He worries and he tries to turn it around because he's a good, optimistic friend who would do anything to help people. That's why there's a short POV there. Also, I think there'd be less he'd concentrate on--he's a flighty kid who wants to do anything and everything at once, or so it seems.  
> And, Zuko offering Katara waterbending lessions? Completely out of the blue, completely derailed me, completely derailed Zuko, it's gonna be a mess. A good mess, but a mess nonetheless. Am I gonna be able to write this perfectly-condensed mess? Maybe, we'll see.  
> Anyway, Imma go kill off Jet in something else--something that will probably never be published--and I'll see you all Thursday!  
> I hope you're well! :3  
> (Oh, and I may have something...new on Tuesday that decided to tackle me from behind.)  
> (Oh, again, I'm thinking every tenth chapter Imma go through and do a small sweep of mistakes. I don't know if AO3 gives you guys emails of previous-chapters updates because I, myself, have never experienced it but just know that I update Sundays/Thursdays)


	8. Jet? - Terrible Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet...causes a lot of problems and he's a mess...and I love him for that...and absolutely HATE him as well =D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't apologise...

The hideout was in the trees, which, if these kids truly were fighting against the Fire Nation, was a terrible idea. The trees were dry, easy to catch on fire if the Fire Nation ever found out where they were. How to get in was rather easy as well, there were only a few vines in an otherwise empty clearing that let the yanker shoot up.

It was stupid and impractical, but pretty.

And, even though Zuko did not like Jet, he could appreciate the beauty of the hideout. He was following the group as Jet took them around for a tour. For being built by a bunch of children, being burnable, and being high in the trees, it was impressive, almost fantastical. There were separate rooms for eating, each child had different rooms to sleep in and there were extra, there were recreational rooms and--

It was all impressive even to him, the one who grew up in a palace.

Jet stopped and turned around, his grin so smug and wrong that it sent his stomach into twists which worsened the hunger pains. Momo had tried to stop him earlier, handing the few nuts and berries he had found, but Zuko had refused them and now, he wished he hadn’t. It was true he had resolved himself to eat that night, but in front of Jet and his “Freedom Fighters” was not something he could do.

“That’s our hideout, what’d you think?” 

Katara bound forward, a smile donning her face and Aang right behind him, “It’s awesome, Jet, beautiful, really. You guys really made it yourselves?” He was confused--he’d always thought Katara was the smart one, besides the time she took the waterbending scroll, but she seemed to like Jet even though he was shady. He wasn’t surprised with Aang though, not with how naïve he was.

“Of course. The best part is, the Fire Nation can’t find us.”

The small, short child that Zuko vaguely recognised as Smellerbee appeared suddenly to his left and--he didn’t jump. Of course he didn’t, he just didn’t notice the child coming up.

“They would love to find you. Wouldn’t they, Jet?” Zuko latched onto their--because he couldn't tell if Smellerbee was a girl or boy--words. Why would they want to find Jet? Is it because they were fighting against the Fire Nation or was it something else? The Fire Nation at least wouldn’t harm him, seeing as Jet was still, technically a child.

(But that hadn’t stopped his father. Who’s to say it would stop anyone else.)

“It’s not going to happen, Smellerbee,” he says. It’s held with so much determination and ferocity that it made Zuko pause

“Why does the Fire Nation want to find you?” Katara asked, and Zuko looked over sharply because that was an excellent question. It was obvious that the Freedom Fighters were causing trouble for the Fire Nation, but what if it was something more.

He wanted to know-- _ needed _ to know, and he didn’t know why. Aang jumped away, going over to a zip line and going. He didn’t know how the boy had so much energy but he did. He didn’t focus well and--he had to master firebending at some point which did require quite a bit of focus.   


“I guess you could say I’ve been causing them a little trouble. See, they took over a nearby Earth Kingdom town a few years back.” Took over? They didn’t take over towns, they just put their expertise and tried to help the others. This was--this was lies, rumours, propaganda spread by their enemies.

He could feel the age-old anger that had been subdued lately, raise its head and grin with a fierceness that he forgot it came with. He didn’t like people who lied--maybe that was wrong. He had been lied to so much in his life that he hated lies, not the people. It may be part of the reason why he  _ couldn’t _ lie--but acting, what he’d been doing with their group, though it felt so  _ natural _ , so _easy_ , was different. But these lies, he couldn’t stand.

And yet, no attention had been put on him yet and he didn’t want Jet’s unnerving, calculating gaze on him.

(He didn’t realise that he was not protecting his people to these lowlifes who didn’t understand what they were doing.)

Pipsqueak’s low, deep--but he still had the face of a child who shouldn’t be fighting. It wasn’t hardened, not as a warrior’s should be--voice cut over the clearing, “We’ve been ambushin’ their troops, cutting off their supply lines, and doing anything we can to mess with ‘em.” 

“One day, we’ll drive the Fire Nation out of here for good and free that town.”

“That’s so brave," Katara said, some kind of hero-worship in her voice.

“Yeah, nothing’s braver than a guy in a tree house,” Sokka said before he walked away and then, it was just Zuko standing an awkward ways away and Katara and Jet. He--he didn’t know where he was supposed to go now. Aang had been swinging around the hideout for as long as this uncomfortable conversation full of lies and Sokka just walked away.

He wanted to run away too, but he wanted to hear the rest of it. His mind prickled with the feeling of indecision but he stayed where he was.

(He’d lost too many things for his inability to eavesdrop, he wasn’t going to let Jet poison Katara with lies as well.)

“Don’t pay any attention to my brother.”

“No problem. He probably had a rough day.”

“So, you all live here?”

“That’s right. Longshot over there? His town got burned down by the Fire Nation. And we found The Duke trying to steal our food. I don’t think he ever really had a home.” The previous anger started to swirl with the beginning, bitter feeling of horror that clenched at his chest.

No, that couldn’t be true. The town was probably a vital point in the Earth Kingdom’s resistance, it had probably attacked them first--self-defense. They were there to integrate their culture and--

“What about you?” Katara asked

“The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.” There was a pause as Zuko thought about what he’d said--the Fire Nation didn’t needlessly kill, especially not parents. It was a lie, propaganda, a way to manipulate Katara and--

“Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.” 

“I’m so sorry, Katara.”

His breath left his body and he froze.

He didn’t walk away, even as Katara and Jet left. He just did something he didn’t do often--

He thought deeply, staring into nothing as their words ran circles around his brain--it was one thing if Jet had been spreading lies and propaganda, but Katara was honest, or at least as honest as he could tell she was being. And it brought up so many questions--

If Sokka and she had lost their mother to the Fire Nation--which part of the Fire Nation? Who was it? Why had they attacked the South Pole?--why didn’t they leave him on Crescent Island? They were too kind and compassionate to kill him, he understood that, but they could have left him, they didn’t have to help him, didn’t have to trust him. He was the Prince of their enemy, a figurehead for the cause of their misfortune and they  _ trusted him _ .

He wanted to argue, wanted to believe the Fire Nation, his home, didn’t take over towns, make children homeless,  _ killed a child’s parents. _ They were just spreading their inventions and their greatness and helped the other countries show their own potential greatness, but they resisted. 

He wanted to believe that, but the part of him that understood, the part that observed at the ports and noticed the hostility and fear people showed him and his crew, coiled around him and froze him from the inside--a creeping coldness that made his jaw ache as he clenched it. If the Fire Nation truly was offering help and greatness, the other countries wouldn’t reject them--and if they did, the Fire Nation would accept their answer. But this--

Taking over their world-- _ imperialism,  _ he remembered his history tutors saying.  _ Taking over their world with their military,  _ a blunder, as if they never thought he would find out, put it together _ \-- _ and eradicating an entire group of people. If the Air Nomads had a military as he was taught--and yet, knowing Aang, the peaceful child he is instead of the senseless beast he was told about, he didn’t believe what he was taught anymore--they could have raised their children, raised them up knowing the Fire Nation and integrate them into their society so airbending existed beyond one child.

“Hey, you okay, buddy?” Zuko startled, whipping around so fast that his hood came off and, with his lack of hands--that had gone numb many rises of Agni before--he couldn’t put it back up without looking stupid; shaking his head downwards wasn’t something he was willing to subject himself to.

He settled and relaxed when he noticed it was only Sokka, before fear and guilt made his shoulders tighten again. He was trustworthy and, despite knowing him for such a short time, possibly the closest person he could call a friend--Mai and Ty Lee were always Azula’s friends. They always played with her and he didn’t want to play with them--and his people had killed his mother. What was he to say to that?

He turned back to the view and glared, “Yes, I’m fine.”

Zuko could feel his eyes on his back before he could hear his laughter.

He didn’t turn, just growled, “What?” He didn’t say anything funny and he now wondered if Sokka wasn’t as sane as he first thought.

“Nothing,” he said, coming up to Zuko’s right and flicking up his hood as he did so. “Just that you’re a terrible liar and those fears you were lying to us have been erased, poof, melted.” He punctuated each of his last words with some kind of gesture. His hands closed and opened quickly, a sudden movement that made him blink--was that a Water Tribe thing?

Zuko glanced at him, pushing away the hurt away and instead asked, “How’d you know?” He may have been lying, but if he was caught in one, entangled in its net, he always unravelled it.

Sokka grinned, “Instincts.” They watched a squirrelmoose crawl across the trunk of a tree, the fear and guilt loosening its coil because--Sokka grinned at him, never mentioned what his people did to his face. It would be mentioned at some point, but for now, it seemed he was going to ignore it.

Heavy footsteps and a deep voice announced Pipsqueak’s arrival, “Dinner’s being served. Thought ya’d want ta know.”

~`~`~`~`

Dinner was a joyous affair, festive and even Sokka could feel himself being dragged into the mood. They  _ had _ taken down a Fire Nation camp and, even though Jet was untrustworthy, he had to begrudgingly admit he was good.

Aang and Katara were still prattling to the Freedom Fighters about what they did and how often they fought and Sokka was dragged into the conversation a few times. Zuko, however, like he had been the entire day, was quiet but--a different kind of quiet. It was unnerving as the shadows sharpened his features as he stared at his plate like he was trying to set it on fire. 

Jet stood, his smug grin growing with a sharp point of sadistic ferocity that disappeared in a flash. He spoke, a glorified speech that accentuated their heroics and funny points and ended with a fierce, unnerving statement about the Fire Nation being  _ dead _ \--dead  _ wrong _ , but with how he said it, it was interpreted differently. He could notice Zuko stiffen and he itched to get out, away from these people who didn’t force a grin when his sister and friend talked to him or how he eyed everything like a fight was about to start.

Jet almost sat down before one of his Freedom Fighters threw something at him, a pointedly raised eyebrow had him rising once more. “Ah, yes, I almost forgot, thank you Longshot. Days ago, we received word of the death of a royal, a rumour that has come true. We have found confirmation that the Crowned Prince of the Fire Nation, Zuko, is dead.”

Cheers erupted and he could feel himself shrinking, looking at Zuko. He could feel his horror, his anger, hurt. His fists had clenched and he could hear his teeth grinding against one another--and Sokka understood. It hadn’t been long since they had kidnapped Zuko and he was already pronounced dead.

Sokka placed a hand on his shoulder and he could feel his shoulders stiffen even more. There was a faint rumble going through his body and Sokka realised it was a growl--he had never liked the thought of those nonbending cuffs more so than now. If Zuko had access to his bending, the entire treehouse hideout would have been burnt--and them along with it.

Jet smirked and sat down before turning towards Sokka and Zuko, “So, Sokka, Katara, Aang, you never introduced me to your friend.”

Panic overrode his mind as he finally looked at Katara and Aang--they both looked surprised with a layer of anger over their features that leeched into the same panic he was feeling.

So many options ran through his mind at once. They could tell Jet the truth--but his speech and the cheering that came after the announcement about Zuko’s death was enough to rid him of that plan. So they had to lie--but with what? There were so many questions that were unanswered--Why didn’t Zuko fight against the Fire Nation? Why was he wearing a cloak? What’s his name? Why was he so quiet?

“He’s our cousin,” he finally blurted out before he could think too much about it. “The Fire Nation attacked us when we were little and he was scarred, he’s shy.” He could feel the gazes of their group but he only saw Jet narrow his eyes--Koh-dammit, he wasn’t believed. He held his breath. It wouldn’t take longer than a few seconds to grab and throw his boomerang and by then both Katara and Aang would be able to help and protect them as well.   


Jet did nothing except twitch his hand and Sokka was suddenly aware of the tense, quiet clearing and the looks of the rest of the Freedom Fighters. “Yeah? What’s his name?”

He must have paused for too long, or looked too panicked--names were difficult and too many came to mind at once, okay? Zuko, his own, his father’s, recycled names that nobody would have remembered with such short notice or Zuko would answer to.

Zuko had been pulled away from him without warning and, when Sokka turned, a blade was at his throat. His hood had been ripped off of his head and his pale, scarred, so obviously Fire Nation face was shown.

Someone restrained his arms behind him as Jet walked forward, a look in his eyes that had Sokka take in a breath of fear--it was dangerous, chilling to his core, and it was  _ knowing. _

“Maybe the Crowned Prince isn’t so dead, after all,” Jet said, and the chill became ice, colder than when Katara accidentally froze the water he was drinking--he knew. That look did not promise anything good for Zuko.

Zuko held his head high, eyes set in a glare that had been reserved for when he was hunting the Avatar--recently, it had softened. “Of course the Crowned Prince isn’t dead--haven’t you heard he can’t die?”

Jet turned to them, “Why are you travelling with an ashmaker? The Prince of the ashmakers, for that matter? What about your country, Aang? Katara--your mother? How can you travel with him? He stands with every thing we stand against!” If Sokka hadn’t frozen before, he did now. Their mother had always been a sensitive subject. He didn’t remember her and Katara never brought her up often, but to let a stranger--a  _ creepy, random, teenage _ \--stranger about her death, it was insane!

“You told him?” he hissed. Katara looked over at him, apologies lit in her eyes that all the anger melted out of him--damn little sisters and their ability to get their elder siblings to forgive them.

“Sokka, now is not the time to talk about this.”

“Zuko isn’t bad!” Aang yelled, “Not all Fire Nation are bad. In fact, I had a good friend named Kuzon and he wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“He’s a figurehead--if we kill him now, it will cripple the Fire Nation in the future. I’ll send his head to the Fire Lord myself,” Jet growled, turning back to Zuko. He hadn’t moved, his face immovable and so different from what they had gotten accustomed to. 

“Do it,” he ordered, his voice level and Sokka--he added another conversation they would need to have to his list: Zuko waking up banished, Katara and Aang being too trusting, and now Zuko ordering for his own death. Maybe he truly was the only sane one.

Jet brought one of his twin hook swords up and--why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Why wasn’t he moving? Why wasn’t Aang moving? In the few moments before Jet brought the weapon down, he started to struggle--dropped the weapon and slapped at his face. 

Confusion hit him for a second and, so it seemed, also his restrainers. The person who restrained him had loosened his grip enough where he was able to headbutt them and yank out of his grasp. He grabbed his boomerang and glanced, briefly, at Katara and Aang yanking away from their own captors. He was right, and he wasn't going to let the others live this down. They were going to get out of this, of course they were.

His gaze was brought back to Jet as Zuko yelled, “Momo, no! Stop!” The lemur that seemed to only listen to Aang, free-spirited as he, paused and flew over to Zuko first, then to him, then to Katara, and finally landed on Aang’s shoulder. Aang had blown his attackers away from him and Katara and--

Sokka threw his boomerang, watching it round, hit the person holding Zuko, and come back. Zuko stood stock-still for a brief moment, indecision warring in his posture before he ran over. 

There weren’t many Freedom Fighters who were willing to fight them and the Avatar, looking unsure about those decisions and those that did attack were taken out quickly.

Jet stood from where he had bent over, claw marks all over his face and scowled, “What? The Prince too cowardly to fight?”

Zuko’s glare softened until his face was blank--everything had stopped. Nobody was attacking them anymore, for some reason, and there was an eerie quiet along the hideout--and then he smirked. “Not cowardly, no. I don’t fight children.”

Sokka pulled on Zuko, and left the hideout quickly with Aang. They ran until they reached Appa and nobody spoke until they were high in the sky and away from the Freedom Fighter’s hideout.

Sokka grinned, out of habit, forced, to ease the tension between the four of them, “I told you so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, these characters ended up doing this--Jet and Zuko having a confrontation even though jet had such potential to manipulate the others. I gave him that option and he ended up forging his own. Zuko decided to be his stupid, un-thinking self and he wouldn’t be reigned in and, thankfully nobody was hurt. And I, the lovely, unorganized authoress, sat in the corner guzzling tea because my throat has been harmed by 1) Yelling at Colliver in How to get Away with Murder, 2) Yelling at the Umbrella Academy because they all need hugs, 3) Yelling at the gay lawers in Ace Attorney, and 4) smoke inhalation. My state decided to burn itself and I’m sitting here writing...smart of me.  
> Anyway, that last reason is because I’m late. My state burned, I got a day behind, got distracted, realised “oh shit, it’s FRIDAY” and stared at this page for hours until the characters took over…  
> So....Jet, eh? Uhm...he kinda went feral. He had this entire plot set up and it was foiled within the first night because the Avatar was travelling with the Prince of the Fire Nation... So...yeah. Anyways, he'll be making a reappearance hopefully sooner than Ba Sing Se...if the plot follows the original plot.  
> Oh! And since the Gaang left early, an innocent city must have been flooded...whoops, I regret nothing. Consequences happen when you divert the plot from canon :3 (do I have plans for this? ...maybe) Also, Jet? He’s a good guy. I hate him, I like him, he’s totally terrible in this chapter because--Prince of the Fire Nation? In his hideout? Oh hell to the no! So...yeah, there are methods to this madness, I’m not writing everything because I feel like it (I mean, that too, but...yeah)  
> I appreciate each and everyone of you and a cackle madly and I...probably have a problem at this point but whatever :3 Just, you guys make me squeak and smile and it's amazing  
> I hope my West Coasters are doing well with the fires!  
> I hope you liked it and I will see you Sunday. I already have that Outline written out which will hopefully listen to me...  
> I hope you are well! :3

**Author's Note:**

> I have the next chapter outlined and it should be out next week. Comments are appreciated but not required. This... shouldn't end up abandoned, not with the ATLA craze I have landed myself in and the work I've already put into the timeline and calendar.  
> I hope you're doing well! Have a wonderful day!


End file.
